


Any Old Bed Of Nails

by Clytaemnestra



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Heavy Angst, I'm not kidding it's seventeen chapters before they even get together, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, like the slowest of slow burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4588542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clytaemnestra/pseuds/Clytaemnestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bucky looks at him, through him; doesn't meet his eyes. "I know you."</p><p>"Yeah," Steve says slowly, forcing words out through a throat that has just closed up. "You know me."</p><p>Bucky nods jerkily, and produces a gun from somewhere. He offers it to Steve, handle first. "Asset reporting for debrief," he says.</p><p>Steve doesn’t know what else to do. He takes it."</p><p>A couple of weeks after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Bucky surrenders to Steve. Then he starts the long road to recovery. Prepare for angst. Lots of angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Bucky finds Steve.

_And everybody was gone  
I was standing in the street because I was trying not to crack _

_I was solid gold, I was in the fight_  
_I was coming back from what seemed like a ruin_  
_I couldn't see you coming so far_  
_I just turn around and there you are_

_I'm so surprised you want to dance with me now  
I was just getting used to living life without you around _

_\- Pink Rabbits, The National_

**Steve**

Steve doesn't expect Bucky to come and find him. It's pretty ironic that in the end, no matter how much searching he did, he could have just stayed inside for weeks and stared at his red-white-and-blue walls. He still wishes Tony had been joking about that.

He's near the end of his evening running route when Bucky steps into his path, wearing battered civilian clothes. The set of his shoulders, the shuttered expression, the arm - none of it is Bucky. But the eyes are. 

Steve doesn't say anything. He can't.

Bucky looks at him, through him; doesn't meet his eyes. "I know you."

"Yeah," Steve says slowly, forcing words out through a throat that has just closed up. "You know me."

Bucky nods jerkily, and produces a gun from somewhere. He offers it to Steve, handle first. "Asset reporting for debrief," he says.

Steve doesn’t know what else to do. He takes it.

*

They have nowhere else to go, so he takes Bucky back to Stark Tower. To his surprise, JARVIS just says "Welcome, Sergeant Barnes," and unlocks the door. He'd half-expected Tony to immediately lock everything down, but Tony is always exceeding his expectations. He feels a pang of guilt about that, but pushes it down. He can deal with it later.

They get to his floor. Bucky hasn't said a word since Steve took his gun from him, staring straight ahead. He doesn't flinch at JARVIS' disembodied voice. He barely breathes.

The doors open silently, and Steve steps onto his floor, suddenly self-conscious about the huge rooms decked out in patriotic colours. He rubs the back of his neck, uncomfortable, and gestures to the guest room door.

“So...this can be yours. I'm right across the corridor.” Bucky looks at him, still standing in the lift. “Is that okay?” Nothing. “Do you want to come in?” Nothing. Steve changes tack. “Please come inside, Bucky.” He immediately steps out of the lift to join Steve at the doorway to the guest room. Steve gestures inside, towards the bedroom. “This is yours, Buck. You can stay here, with me, as long as you want.”

“The Asset does not have wants.”

It's the third sentence Bucky has said, and Steve swallows down a hot spike of rage and bile. He looks into Bucky's eyes and tells, him as firmly as he can: “You're not 'the asset'. You're my friend.” He reaches out to clasp his shoulder, and there is an odd moment, as if Bucky has done the opposite of flinching. Steve drops his hand without touching him. “And I'm not going to hurt you.” 

Bucky looks away. Steve takes a breath. “I'm going to call a friend. I'll be right back.” He steps out into the corridor, then turns back. “This room is yours. You can decide what you do in it. I won't stop you.”

Bucky is still for a moment, then slowly closes his door.

Steve goes to his room and calls Sam, who is surprisingly calm. "So, you're telling me he just showed up?"

"Yeah, while I was running. He stepped out of nowhere and kinda...surrendered to me."

“How is he?"

Steve hesitates, then goes for the truth. "I don't know. He isn't really reacting to anything, or speaking much. He only does things when I tell him to, like coming inside. And I think he's scared, of everything. He thought I was going to hit him."

Sam is quiet. When he speaks again, he's using the same voice he has at VA meetings. "Steve, you need to know that there might not be enough of him left to be a person. He might not ever recover. And," his voice becomes sterner suddenly, “he might still be trying to take you out.”

“No. He _is_ in there, he recognised me; and I know he pulled me out of the Potomac. He's just - ” Steve swallows. “- lost.”

"You've seen what he can do; hell, we all did. How do you know he isn't still following HYDRA's orders to kill you?”

“He's had plenty of opportunities to do it in the last hour,” Steve points out. “My back's to the door right now.”

“Listen, you don't know what's going on in his head-”

“No, I don't. And neither do you. But he's my best friend, and I'm not abandoning him again.”

There's a beat where he can tell Sam's only putting this to one side for later, and makes a mental note to brace himself for a serious discussion soon. “Okay. You still at the Tower?"

"Yeah."

"Does Stark know?"

Steve closes his eyes. Tony has read the Winter Soldier files as well, including the Stark “car crash.” “I think JARVIS probably told him.” He hears the shower in the guest room start up, which is encouraging. And it reminds him he's still in sweaty running clothes. “Listen, I'm gonna go clean up. Can you...I mean, you don't have to, I know you're busy, but--”

“Dude, you literally just told me you've got your back to a known super-assassin whose last orders were to kill you. I'm getting the next flight to NYC. Besides, I got some old friends I want to see.”

The relief is more intense than he'd expected. “Thanks.”

“Be careful.” Sam hangs up.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, turning towards the en suite. He still can't get used to a bedroom at least double the size of his SHIELD apartment, never mind the rundown old place he and Bucky used to share. And the bathroom is something else entirely, covered with granite and glass and chrome.

The shower is a thing of beauty, but it does nothing to ease the tension in Steve's back and shoulders. He stands under the hot spray until his fingers start to wrinkle and thinks about Bucky, about the words in the Winter Soldier file. _Asset resists conditioning. Asset insubordinate, Asset disciplined. Asset healing limits unknown. Asset to be wiped frequently. Asset successfully reprogrammed._

A pile of grey powder appears by his feet and he realises he's punched through the wall. Sighing, he makes a mental note to patch it and turns the water off.

He pulls on some sweatpants before starting some coffee. Bucky's shower is still running after almost an hour. He pads down the hallway. “Bucky?” No response, but Steve is rapidly getting used to that. He knocks on the door, then listens, the first cold prickling of panic beginning to form in his stomach. “Bucky, it's Steve. Can I come in?”

The water continues running, so Steve gives in and enters, opening the door to the en suite. Bucky is sitting fully clothed on the floor, soaked through. The steam is incredibly hot, hotter than Steve knew showers could get, and Bucky's face is red with it. His eyes are far away.

Remembering what happened last time he tried to touch him, Steve turns the water off and goes to sit in front of the man on the floor. “Bucky, I need you to come back to me. Please.” He blinks. “Yeah, that's it. You're with me, you're with Steve. Focus on my voice. I'm sorry I came in. I needed to check you were okay. Come back to me.”

Bucky suddenly gasps for breath, looking dazed, like he's just woken up. He looks at his hands, at his wet clothes. Then he stands and leaves the room without a second glance. 

When Steve follows, Bucky has stripped completely and is standing naked in the middle of the room, sodden clothing in a corner, along with several knives. He's avoiding Steve's eyes again. “Dry clothing is necessary for optimal performance.”

Steve nods and clears his throat, resolutely not looking at the way that Bucky has broadened in the shoulders and through his chest, the way his bones stick out too much, the scars where the metal arm connects. “You can borrow mine for now. We’ll order you some stuff online later,” he says, belatedly realising that Bucky has literally nothing else than the clothes and weapons he came with. “And,” he adds, “We'll eat, too.”

As it turns out, they never get to online shopping. Steve coaxes Bucky to sit at the kitchen table, and keeps up a stream of casual chatter about trivialities while he makes mac'n'cheese. “Eat,” he says, then winces when he realises how much it sounds like an order.

Bucky eats the whole plate and promptly throws up on the floor. Steve goes to get the mop, but Bucky has disappeared into his room by the time he comes back.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First Bucky POV. He tries to come to terms with where he is. Also Steve has a nightmare.

_I can't leave you_  
_And back home my house is falling down_  
_Since I met you_  
_My basement has started to bleed_  
_The floors are all collapsing_  
_Still I'm begging to be free_

_\- Demolition, Patrick Wolf_

**Bucky**

The Asset does not sleep. It sits underneath the window, facing the door, waiting. It remembers punishment. It remembers vomiting before, vomiting over and over again, and that this was disobedience. It remembers needles, before and after. 

So it waits. The exhibit showed that Steven Grant Rogers was the Asset's superior. Therefore, there will be punishment.

_But I knew him_

The Asset does not know anybody. The Asset is nobody. But the Asset remembers -

_“I'm not gonna fight you.”_

_Diving into deep blue, looking for yellow hair. The Arm is slow, but it works to haul Steven Grant Rogers out. Because -_

_because_

_“I'm with you to the end of the line.”_

The Asset remembers him, like the Asset remembers water, food, clothing, weapons. Necessities. So he is important to the Asset's survival. Think.

Steven Grant Rogers was the Asset's superior officer. The Asset must obey superior officers.

Rogers works with SHIELD. SHIELD is part of HYDRA. Rogers works with HYDRA. 

HYDRA has fallen. Steven Grant Rogers is the Asset's last remaining superior officer.

The Asset did not successfully eat after being instructed. There will be punishment for disobedience.

So the Asset waits. But nothing happens. The room gets darker. There is a knock on the door.

“Bucky?”

The Asset is not Bucky. Bucky is not the Asset's name. The Asset has always been the Asset. Bucky does not exist.

_But I knew him_

“Bucky, I'm opening the door.” _Punishment._ The Asset breathes more deeply. The door opens. “Hey. You okay?” Do not recognise query. “I should have thought to ask about what you're used to eating. Guess I got it wrong, huh?” Rhetorical. “Can I come in?”

Rogers has given the Asset this room. It can be taken away for disobedience. The Asset has already disobeyed once. “Yes.”

“Thank you.” Rogers sits on the bed, close enough to strike. Brace. “Hey. I'm not going to hurt you, remember?”

“Yes.” The handlers lie. 

The other man frowns. “But you don't believe me.” Statement does not require response. “Well. Can you tell me what you eat?”

_beige slop, dropped on the cell floor; eat it anyway_

_a green, vile-tasting drink; drink it anyway_

_chunks of unidentifiable meat in tasteless broth; a reward for_

_blood_

_blood in the mouth_

_blood on the hands_

_blood on white snow_

“...can you hear me?”

“Yes.”

It's dark, but Steven Grant Rogers smiles.

_I would do anything for that smile_

The Asset does not remember that smile.

“There you are.” Statement does not make sense. The Asset has not moved. “Listen. I'm going to get you some water, in case you want it after being sick.”

He is gone again. No punishment. Instead, Rogers returns with the glass of water, holds it out. The Asset takes it. 

The Asset feels strange. 

“Listen, it's pretty late, so I'm gonna get some sleep. My room's just across the corridor, so if you need anything, I'll be there.” Nod. “Well. Goodnight, Bucky. I'll see what I can do about breakfast tomorrow.”

_Who the hell is Bucky_

*

The Asset jolts back into alertness, opening its eyes. It’s almost dawn, but something else woke it up. The Asset slides under the bed and listens, gripping the knife it hid there.

Noises. From Steven Grant Rogers -

_Steve_

From the handler's bedroom. Protect the handler.

The Asset moves silently through the apartment, knife ready. It opens the door to Rogers' room, scanning for threats.

He lies alone in bed, thrashing, chest heaving. Not screaming; just making the bitten-off noises a man makes when he is trying not to scream.

Protect the handler. Protect Steven Grant Rogers.

The Asset crosses to the bed and lays his metal hand on the other man's bare arm. Rogers wakes up immediately. “Bucky!”

“I'm not Bucky,” The Asset says, and then quickly steps back. The Asset did not mean to say that. The Asset does not talk unless asked. The Asset is not an “I”. Steven Grant Rogers squints at him through the dark.

“But...” He blinks, becomes more alert. “You're...not Bucky?”

Response necessary. “Affirmative.”

The handler hesitates, then squares his shoulders. Punishment? “But you are somebody.” His voice is firm. Mistake. Mistakemistakemistake. _Punishment._ “No, hey, calm down, I mean...you said 'I'. So you're not just an asset, right?” Response necessary. Response known.

“The Asset is a tool for the good of mankind.”

Steven Grant Rogers sags back into his bed. He is quiet, until: “You don't have to be. I...you can choose.” The Asset does not understand. Say nothing. “Listen, thanks for waking me up. I was having a nightmare. So thank you.” The Asset understands nightmares. The handler glances at his clock and sighs. It is 04:02. “Well. May as well get up now anyway.”

The handler has only slept for approximately five hours. “Eight hours of sleep is optimal.”

“Yeah, well. Don't need that much sleep nowadays.” He swings his legs out of bed. “Time for a new day.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam arrives, hurray! And Steve asks him for help, as everybody should, because Sam Wilson is a goddamn angel (now there's an AU I should write after this). 
> 
> Also, Steve is not okay.

_Sometimes my heart hurts to watch you_  
_There's a blind spot that I can but get to_  
_Sometimes you seem like a lost cause_  
_Breathe a second - feel that pregnant pause_

_\- Pregnant Pause, Wild Beasts_

**Steve**

That morning, Steve runs until his legs are aching. It takes a while. He doesn't know whether last night was progress or not.

His phone chimes.

_From: Sam  
Hey will be @ the Tower in 1hr. Let me know ur still alive._

_To: Sam  
Yeah, I’m still alive; just on my run. See you soon. And thank you again._

There's also a text from Tony at 3AM. He silently thanks Bruce for showing him how to turn off the personalised tone; it had been someone screeching about being back in black. 

_From: Tony_  
_JARVIS says we have a guest. Tell him not to worry if he blows anything up, me and Bruce do it all the time, no biggie. Let me know when we can meet Mr Tall Dark and Grumpy. I'll track down Hawkeye and we'll have a congratulations-on-not-being-brainwashed party for deadly snipers. Xoxoxo_  
_P.S. Also, tell him it’s all water under the bridge about my parents. I read the files. If it wasn't him, it would've been someone else._

_To: Tony_  
_Not for a while, but I appreciate the offer. See you in the kitchen when you drag yourself away from whatever the hell you're doing in the lab._  
_P.S. Thank you._

He picks up groceries and gets back to the Tower in a better mood. Bucky is still in his room, but Steve suspects that's not going to be unusual. He knocks anyway. 

“Hey Buck, I'm back.” No response. That also doesn't seem like it's going to be unusual. “I'll be making breakfast in a bit, so I'll come back then to see if you're hungry. And,” he adds, “I've got a friend coming round. I'd like you to meet him.”

Steve busies himself with putting away the food, showering, and then searching online clothing sites for clothes that he thinks Bucky might like – or at least, what the Bucky he grew up with would like. He takes a deep breath at that thought, hating it but knowing he needs to face it.

As if summoned, Sam chooses that moment to step out of the lift with a gym bag and his wings folded away on his back. “Hey man,” he says, grinning.

Not for the first time, Steve thinks _that smile could charm Satan._ Out loud, he says: “Hi, thanks for coming,” and hugs his friend. “Brought the wings for Tony to poke at, huh?”

Sam shrugs. “Figured it couldn't hurt. And it'll probably cover me for Christmas this year, considering how much he wanted to look at them.”

“You plan ahead.”

“Always.” He looks at the closed door to the guest room, smile fading slightly. “He in there?”

Steve nods, then beckons him away from the hallway to the living room. “If he has hearing at the level I do, he'll be able to hear us from everywhere in the hall,” he explains once they're sat down.

Sam raises his eyebrows. “Your hearing's that good?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll make sure to watch my mouth.” Sam goes to the window, whistling in admiration at the view. “Wow. Stark goes all out, huh?”

“I don't think I've been appreciating it as much as I should have,” Steve admits. Sam looks at him – not sharply, but in a way that tells Steve he shouldn't bother with any bullshit.

“How are you doing? With him?”

He checks his watch. “Why don't you see for yourself? I told him I'd be making breakfast soon. You can join us.”

Sam frowns. “You think he's ready for new people so soon? He's only just come in from the cold.”

“I...didn't think of that.” Steve sighs and scrubs his hands through his hair in frustration. “Why didn't I think of that? I'm so – out of my depth. I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what I should be saying or not saying. I don't – I don't know, Sam. I'm not like you, I'm not trained. Where do I start with something like this?”

Sam comes to sit opposite Steve, leaning in closely. “Listen. No one is trained for this. If I knew an expert in rehabilitating brainwashed assassins with PTSD and a metal arm, I'd be calling them right now. But all he has is us. You said he came to you himself, right?”

“Yeah.”

“That's a good sign. It means he's looking for help – even if he doesn't know it yet. You said he keeps thinking you're gonna hurt him?” Steve nods. “Okay. Well, you gotta show him you won't.”

Steve bristles. “I would never -”

“I know, man, I know. But you need to make it as obvious as you can. No sudden movements, no aggressive body language, no loud voices. If you do need to touch him, explain what you're doing and why, and do it slowly and gently. I still think he could be programmed to hurt you, so if he does come at you, defend yourself as passively as possible – just pin him if you can.”

“He won't hurt me.” Sam starts to say something, but Steve cuts him off. “He came into my room last night to wake me up from a nightmare, and when I got up he told me off for not getting enough sleep. And – and he said 'I'm not Bucky'. He only called himself 'the Asset' before.”

His friend nods slowly. “That's good. He might be getting some sense of identity back. He hasn't been frozen or wiped for a good month now, could be wearing off. Sounds like he might be getting some sense of control back too, so try to give him as many choices as you can. And...he told you off for not sleeping enough?” Sam's smiling again.

“Well, his exact words were “Eight hours of sleep is optimal”, so...”

“I'll be damned.” He looks up suddenly, still smiling. “Hey.”

Steve turns around to see Bucky standing at the entrance to the living room, looking wary. There are shadows under his eyes; he clearly didn't get any more sleep than Steve did. “Bucky, this is Sam – the friend I told you about. Do you want breakfast?”

The metal hand clenches. He's staring at Sam. “You...had wings. Before.”

Sam shares a quick glance with Steve, before standing up slowly. Bucky steps backwards, and Sam raises his hands slightly. “Easy. Yeah, I did have wings before. Good to meet you properly, though.” Bucky doesn't say anything. “What can I call you?”

Shock plays across Bucky's face before it shuts down. “The Asset.”

“Nah, man, I mean what's your name?”

Bucky's eyes flicker from side to side and his breath starts to come heavily. “The Asset does not have a name.”

“Sure you do. You just let me know when you find it.” Sam moves towards the lift, passing by the man who tore him out of the sky without a flinch. Steve's impressed. “Steve, remember to take care of yourself. I'll see you both soon.”

“Have fun with Stark,” Steve calls. Sam grins again and the lift doors close. He shifts his gaze to Bucky, who seems to be calming down. Sam was right. It was stupid of Steve to think Bucky could handle someone new so soon. But at least he's here. “Do you want to try breakfast?” Bucky nods. “Great. I thought we'd try something simple, see if it agrees with you better. Let's just do toast, okay?”

Steve is more pleased than he should be that this seems to stay down; though it could be more to do with no orders to eat, so Bucky can stop when he wants. Bread and butter go on the safe foods list.

“I found some clothes you might like,” Steve says after he's washed up. He has a dishwasher, but he doesn't trust it to clean things properly. Some things are just better the old fashioned way. “Do you want to come and look?”

After a hesitation, he gets a nod. He spends the next hour gently nudging Bucky to choose preferences – this shirt over that one, this colour over the other. It takes a long time to get more than a shrug, but after a while blue and black become clear favourites. 

Bucky is exhausted afterwards, and he doesn't come out of his room again, but Steve counts it as a good day. 

He draws - mostly Bucky, but Peggy, the Commandos, Sam, even Tony - until it gets dark. Then he just lies awake, dry-eyed but aching with the need to cry, the need to scream. 

He tries to remind himself that what’s happened is a miracle, and one he doesn’t deserve; that he’s the luckiest guy in the world to have a second chance with the man he loves. He thinks of waking up in hospital and knowing he’d been saved again, and by whom, and why. He thinks of how he can start to put things right.

He thinks of Bucky’s face, blank; scared; panicked. He thinks of all the things they must have taken from him; all the things they did to him. He thinks of how he wasn't there to stop them.

He cries.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days in Bucky's head.
> 
> TW: Implied suicidal thoughts, PTSD, flashbacks

_He is not the real me_  
_But I can hear, I can hear, I can hear him_  
_From my future_

_Show show show show me  
You gotta show me the way_

_\- V.A.L.I.S., Bloc Party_

**Bucky**

The Asset is tired. It has been a long time since he – it – he has felt tiredness. The man with wings said he had to have a name.

_“You have no name,” they said. “You are not human. You are merely our fist. You are a weapon. You are the Asset.”_

_“I am the Asset.”_

_Pain._

_“Weapons are not people. It is the Asset.”_

_“It is the Asset.”_

_“Good.”_

The Asset comes back to itself – himself. He wants to pull out his hair, gouge out his eyes. Tear off the arm. Everything hurts. Even the wall is bruising his back.

There were missions before, and then the wipes, and then the cold; now there is nothing. He does not know what is expected.

He looks at the bed. Is the Asset allowed a bed? It will be more vulnerable, but beds are better than the floor.

_“Bucky, if you don't take more of this goddamn blanket I am kicking you out of this bed.”_

_“You wish, punk.”_

_“Jerk.”_

_“Go to sleep.”_

_Bony body in his arms --_

_collateral damage_

The Asset comes back to the present, but does not move. It is dark now. He was lost for a long time.

He stays where he is, watching the room brighten. He only responds in monosyllables when Rogers knocks.

_You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?_

_Hell no._

_32557038_

_32557038_

He rejects food. He listens to Rogers’ phone ring and a quiet conversation about the Asset’s status. He sleeps. On the second day, Rogers comes in and sits on the floor next to him.

“Hey, Bucky. You've been in here all day. You're not eating.” He knows that. “Are you...okay?”

Enquiry unclear. “Is the Asset allowed a bed?”

“What?” Anger. He flinches. _Punishment._ “No, hey, I mean – of course you are. That's why it's here, so you can use it. If you want.”

The Asset nods. Thinks of another question. He is allowed to ask questions relevant to his current status. “When is the next mission?”

“Bucky...” Rogers’ voice sounds familiar. Like despair.

_“Bucky!”_

_Snow falling falling cold cold so cold_

_Steve it hurts_

_Steve help_

_where are you_

“...just breathe with me, okay, in and out, you're doing really well, come on back...”

“I'm here.” The Asset didn't mean to say that. 'I' again. But Steven Grant – _Steve? Steve?_ \- Steven Grant Rogers is not angry. He brings him a bland sandwich later and the Asset is not sick from it. There is milk, which he forces himself to drink. That does make him sick, but he makes it to the bathroom. There is no punishment, though there must be surveillance from the talking building.

He can use the bed, staying where he can see the door. He sleeps, wakes from nightmares, sleeps again.

On the fourth day, the Asset can smell himself. This is incompatible with successful operations. 

_“He's filthy. Hose him down.”_

He avoids the shower and climbs into the bath instead, as hot as he can make it. He sits there for a long time.

Later, the Asset hears the man with wings (threat level neutral) arrive. He speaks to Steve in murmurs before knocking on the door. Then the dark skinned man - _Sam,_ he remembers - puts his head around it. 

“Hey. How are you doing?” Enquiry unclear. No response necessary. Sam enters and sits on the bed, elbows on his knees. He has more sandwiches with him. “Steve says you’ve been in here for days.”

Sam is not the handler. Sam cannot directly inflict or order punishment. “Yes.”

“Why is that?” _Trap._ Sam waits. Then: “Do you think we’re HYDRA?”

He knows this. “Steven Grant Rogers works with SHIELD. SHIELD is HYDRA. Steven Grant Rogers works for HYDRA.”

“What if I told you SHIELD was gone, and took HYDRA with it?”

He knows this one too. “If they cut off one head, two more shall take its place.”

“Okay. What if we cut off all the heads?”

_“The Asset is to self-terminate if all HYDRA officers are dead or missing.”_

_self-terminate  
but i tried that_

“...safe. You’re not being hurt. It’s the eleventh of May, 2014, and you are in New York City in North America. You’re with friends. Nothing bad will happen to you while you’re with Steve. Easy. Easy. There you go. You back?” He nods. “Does that happen often?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’m going to keep asking you questions, and you can tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Do not understand.”

Something flickers in Sam’s face. He looks...sad. The Asset has not thought that word in a long time. “If you start feeling negative when you’re thinking about my questions - like if you think you’re going to go away again - tell me to stop and I will.” Sam waits until the Asset acknowledges the instructions. “Why do you think you’re here?”

“For the good of mankind.”

“I’ll rephrase. Why did you find Steve?”

“Asset must report to superior officer after mission failure or success.”

“Wasn’t Steve your mission?”

This time, the Asset catches himself before he falls away again. “Stop,” he says.

“Okay.” Sam looks at him for a little while longer, though the Asset doesn’t meet his eyes, before standing up. “I’m gonna go now. Can I come back in a few days?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. I’ll see you soon.” 

The Asset is alone again.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky snaps. Also, Tony and Bruce show up.
> 
> P.S. Would really appreciate any feedback on my Tony! I don't know how well I've captured his character.

_See these tears so blue_  
_An ageless heart that can never mend_  
_These tears can never dry_  
_A judgement made can never bend_

_See these eyes so green_  
_I can stare for a thousand years_  
_Just be still with me_  
_You wouldn't believe what I've been through_

_\- Cat People (putting out fires), David Bowie_

**Steve**

He figures out something’s wrong when he hears Bucky break something. It sounds like the wardrobe. 

“This is probably the calm before the storm,” Sam had said earlier. “He’s actually doing really well so far - way better than we have a right to expect. I’d guess it’s because of that super healing thing helping his brain to put things together again. But he’s going to crack, and he might crack a lot.”

“What should I do if that happens?”

Sam had shrugged. “Depends on what he’s doing. If he’s violent to people, remember to pin him instead of fight him; if he’s violent towards inanimate stuff, leave him alone as long as he isn’t hurting himself; if he cries, comfort him - but be careful about touching him. He might run, but he’ll come back. And you know you can’t find him unless he wants you to.”

Steve voiced his worst fear; the thought came out flat and hard. “What if he - hurts himself. Deliberately.”

Sam had held his gaze. “If he was anyone else, I’d say call 911. But I think you’re the only one who could stop him from doing that.”

All things considered, hearing crashing noises was better than Steve hoped for. When it stops, he gets up from the couch and knocks. “Bucky?” He hears harsh, ragged breathing. “Buck, I’m gonna come in, okay?”

The room is a mess. Bucky is in the far corner, arms covering his face, surrounded by splintered wood and shredded blankets. Steve approaches slowly, fighting the urge to hold him. “Hey, Buck. It’s okay.” He sits as close to him as he dares. “Do you want to talk to me?”

More harsh breathing. Then: “Is my name James Buchanan Barnes?”

Hope flares painfully in Steve’s chest. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s your name. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

“And. I know you. Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re my -- ” He cuts himself off suddenly, breathing so fast he’s almost panting. “You’re my --”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve says, trying to keep his own voice calm. “No one is gonna hurt you. I’ll stop anyone who tries.” It doesn’t help. Steve takes a breath. “Listen. HYDRA is gone and they’re not coming back. You’re with me now. You don’t have to worry about being punished.”

“But -” Steve’s heart breaks a little more at the sound of Bucky’s voice. “I disobeyed.”

He can’t help it; he aches to touch him. Steve reaches for Bucky’s shoulder, and is immediately thrown through the wall. He coughs, sucks in air and plaster. Bucky stands over him, chest heaving, wide-eyed. 

Then he wheels around and runs, not towards the lift or his room, but the windows. “BUCKY!” Steve yells, but there’s an explosion of glass and he glimpses Bucky jumping upwards from the balcony, towards the roof.

By the time he gets there, Bucky’s already gone. 

*

He doesn’t come back for another three days. Steve distracts himself by repairing everything (including the hole he left in his own bathroom), cleaning, and making lists.

He make lists of foods to try, lists of old music Bucky used to like and music he might like now, lists of long-term things to do around the apartment (the first one is re-painting the walls). Endless lists of everything he can think of to do when Bucky comes back, because he has to come back. He doesn’t consider the alternative. He also doesn’t sleep. He knows his nightmares would just be about Bucky, endlessly falling; or of killing him by mistake before the mask came off.

On the first day, Bucky’s new clothes arrive, delivered personally by Tony and Bruce. 

“Hey Capsicle, long time no see!” Tony and Bruce peer down at Steve, who is scrubbing the kitchen floor. “You know we can pay people to do this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, well,” Steve grunts, “You learn a lot of things in the army. And I already paid people to get me a ton of stuff.” He straightens up, catching sight of the boxes in their arms. “You know, you can pay people to do that too.”

“Little personal touch never hurt anybody. Plus, Bruce wouldn’t shut up about how I had to get out of the lab and at least try to talk to someone other than him, Pepper, and JARVIS - and, I am quoting verbatim here, ‘put down that damn soldering iron and pick up something other than alcohol or one of those disgusting smoothies.’ ”

“I did say that,” Bruce admits happily, setting his box on the kitchen counter. 

“No manners, none at all, I have absolutely no clue why I put up with him and his whale noises and yoga, which Pepper actually _likes_ for absolutely no discernible reason -” Tony continues prattling on as Bruce and Steve exchange a look. Bruce carefully extracts Tony’s delivery box from his arms. “- also, remind me to kiss both of Sam’s feet a hundred times, my god, I can’t believe _I_ didn’t think of those wings. Anyway, looks like Red under the Bed blew his top, huh?”

“It was my fault,” Steve stands up, trying to work a knot out of his back. “I tried to touch him when he was upset, and he…” He gestures at the hole in the wall and the broken window.

“You seem very calm,” notes Bruce, crossing his arms. He looks over his glasses at Steve. “It took you a long time to get him here in the first place.”

“I didn’t even get him here,” Steve admits. “He found me. Sam says if he came to me once, he’ll come back again.” He doesn’t say how hard it is to believe that.

“Unless you really fucked up,” interjects Tony, who has produced raisins from somewhere.

“I’m sure you haven’t,” says Bruce, with a look at Tony that plainly means ‘shut up you incredible idiot’. “I agree with Sam. You’re Bucky’s one point of stability right now.”

“Plus, JARVIS can run face recognition across the city, so there’s always that.” 

Steve doesn’t ask. 

The second day passes like the first; he pushes down his panic and cleans, repairs, writes. He listens to the next musician on his to-do list (David Bowie). Sam comes round to reassure him. Steve smiles and nods and knows that Sam sees right through him, but mercifully isn’t saying anything right now. He destroys a few more punching bags.

On the third night, Steve wakes up. He didn’t hear anything, but he knows Bucky’s home.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky starts to remember.

_Something's got a hold on me_  
_And I don't know what_  
_It's the beginning of a new age_

_\- New Age, Velvet Underground/Lou Reed_

**Bucky**

He doesn’t go far. He jumps up to the balcony above, then higher, digging in the fingers of his metal arm when he can’t find handholds. He makes it to the roof of the tower and hides, trying to control the memories.

He remembers his name. Barnes. He remembers clinging to it for a long time - months, maybe years- before forgetting it.

_“Repeat after me: you do not have a name.”_

_“Fuck you.”_

_“Hm. Shock him again.”_

_He screams._

He remembers alternating between raging and crying for days when they show him that Steve’s plane went down - though he still doesn’t completely remember Steve himself. He just has flashes - a smile, a sentence, a touch. Feelings. The further back he tries to remember, the fuzzier it becomes, and the more it hurts. 

He does not remember his family. 

He remembers the missions. Other assassins. People in various uniforms. Teenagers. Politicians. A man and a woman in a car. Blowing up entire trains, buses, boatloads of people. 

He remembers killing quickly and killing slowly; he remembers torturing secrets out of people; he remembers teaching others how to do it. He remembers fighting the woman with red hair before she was with Steve.

Mostly, he remembers the pain. Pain for years. Pain from the electricity, the beatings, nerve endings coming back to life. Pain in his shoulder from the weight of the arm, though he can ignore it now. Pain from the amputation and the long operation to attach it. Pain from all the times they held him down and hurt him just to see what he could heal from, and all the times they hurt him just for the sake of it. 

He remembers cruel faces and crueller hands; remembers how he eventually lost the capacity to recognise cruelty, because it was in the air, under his skin.

He does not remember meeting Steve for the first time; but he knows how he felt. 

_“I’m with you to the end of the line.”_

He hears that twice, in his voice and in Steve’s. Steve had held on to that, when any sane person wouldn’t have. And in return, Barnes had hurt him, kept on hurting him. Bucky would never have hurt the person he loved more than anyone in the world. 

So he’s not Bucky any more. He’s not the Asset, either. He doesn’t know who he might be. But Steve should know his best friend is gone, so when HYDRA comes he won’t risk himself.

It takes him another day to build up the courage to go back. Everything has been fixed, including the bed. _Typical Steve,_ he thinks, though he doesn’t know why he thinks it. He sits on the new blankets, listening to Steve go through his daily routine. Waiting for the knock.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah.” Steve comes in, looking cautious; looking exhausted. Seeing him makes Barnes feel...something that he can’t name. But he knows Steve shouldn’t look that way. “Sorry.” Get it over with. “I should leave.”

“What?” Steve suddenly sits down next to him, eyes intense, and Barnes manages not to flinch. “No, you - why are you saying that?”

“I’m not him,” he explains. “I’m not...I’m not your best friend. And -” He takes a few deep breaths. “I’ve done things. Things that your Bucky would never do.”

“I know.” His heart seems to stop, even though he knows by now that it never actually does. “I don’t care. It wasn’t you doing it; all of it was HYDRA. And I’m not going to leave you because of things that were done to you.” He means it.

“I almost killed you,” Barnes points out. He doesn’t want to talk about what was done to him.

“But you didn’t. You saved me.” Steve laughs, but it isn’t a happy sound. “You’ve saved me a lot. So I’m going to help you get through this. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“What if I never get through this,” he says, unable to make it a question. 

“Then I’ll still be here,” Steve says. 

Barnes tries to believe him.

*

He sits in the bath again and watches water flow over the metal arm. He picks up and sniffs all of the bottles, eventually choosing one that smells like an orchard. Later, he dunks his head under the cooling water and stays there until his lungs protest too much. 

Given a choice, the body always chooses to breathe.

The towels are large and soft. He wraps them around himself and sits still, just feeling them, until he notices the boxes. They’re full of the new clothes Steve helped him to pick out, though he doesn’t remember the specifics. He chooses an outfit at random.

“You smell nice,” Steve comments over dinner (pasta with tomato sauce). Barnes doesn’t know what to say, so he stays quiet. He isn’t sick. 

_“You’ve done so well.” The Asset does not respond. “You will be fed today.”_

_The Asset is grateful._

*

The next day, Sam comes round to make lunch while Steve is out. Afterwards, they sit together in the living room.

“So, first things first - do you have a name for me?”

“Barnes.”

“Okay, Barnes. Same rules as last time - if you feel like you want to stop, just say so.” Sam waits for him to nod. "A few days ago, I asked you why you thought you were here. Have you thought any more about that?”

“Steve wants to help me.”

“And do you want him to?”

He has to think about that. “I don’t want to feel this.”

“What are you feeling?”

“I…” He pauses, scrambles for words he hasn’t used in years. Sam doesn’t say anything. “Wrong. Broken.”

“Can you tell me why you feel like that?”

He feels dizzy. “Stop.”

“No problem.” Sam gets up. “Can I come back?”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.” He has an easy, wide smile. If Barnes hadn’t already fought him, he’d think he was just another vulnerable civilian. “See you soon, Barnes.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve introduces Bucky to the gym. Tony turns up. 
> 
> (Also, your comments are giving me life; thank you so much for all the kind words!)

_Come running to me_  
_When things get out of hand_  
_Running to me_  
_When it's more than you can stand_

_I said I'm strong, straight_  
_Willing to be a shelter in a storm_  
_Your willow, oh willow_  
_When the sun is out_

_\- Willow, Joan Armatrading_

**Steve**

They fall into a routine for the next week.

Steve goes for a run, showers, and persuades Bucky to have breakfast. Every other day, he’ll hang out with Tony and Bruce or visit Peggy, while Sam makes lunch and checks in with Bucky. In the evenings, Steve tests out more recipes for the safe foods list he and Sam are making. 

(Cheese and other strong flavours are still out, but the list now includes most forms of bread, pasta, potatoes, tofu, chicken, most soups, tomatoes, apples, crackers, porridge, vanilla pudding, and seven of Bruce’s herbal teas.)

On the eighth day, Steve comes back from his run to find Bucky half-naked and doing one-armed push ups in the living room. He can’t say anything for a few seconds, then manages to clear his throat. “Morning, Buck.” Bucky just grunts. He looks like he’s been exercising for a while. “I’m gonna make eggs. Wanna try some?” Another grunt. Steve assumes that’s a yes.

“So, how come you’ve started working out?” he asks over his plate of eggs, thankful that Bucky’s put a shirt back on.

“Need to stay in shape.” Bucky takes another forkful before adding: “HYDRA are still out there. They’ll come for me.”

“Bucky.” Steve stops himself from reaching across the table to take his hand, but only just, and curses silently when he sees Bucky’s gaze flicker to his hand. “I’m not going to let them take you.”

His old friend looks at him with haunted eyes. “They always do. I need to be ready.”

Steve changes tack. “Well, would it help if we sparred? There’s a whole gym downstairs. And Tony’s reinforced the punching bags.”

Bucky looks away again. “Okay.”

Eggs go on the safe list.

*

Bucky just looks around the gym for the first five minutes, before testing out the climbing wall and Tony's custom-made reflex trainer: a circular wall with panels that lit up faster and faster as they were hit. After a while he jogs back, not quite smiling, but looking like he might. Steve can’t help grinning.

“You like it, huh?” Bucky ducks his head, hair falling in his face. “Cool. You can use the rest of the stuff, if you want. Or we can spar.”

“Spar,” is the immediate response.

“Alright.” He leads the way to the mats and drops into a fighting stance. “When you’re ready, okay?”

Bucky immediately launches himself forwards. Steve has enough time to remember a documentary about big cats before they’re grappling. After that, he doesn’t think, relying on pure instinct. 

They leave the mats almost immediately, the fight taking them all around the room for a good twenty minutes; Bucky favours the higher ground, leaping off the walls and swinging from a series of bars and hoops at varying heights. 

They chase each other through the vents; they hang from the climbing wall until Steve leaps for Bucky’s legs and falls with him to the floor; they duck under the parallel bars, which Bucky grabs as a weapon.

Steve jumps for the other bar and uses the momentum to kick backwards, hitting Bucky in the chest - he hears a thud, but when he turns Bucky is nowhere to be seen. 

He stops, looking wildly around. “Bucky?” A sudden weight hits him in the back and a metal arm wraps around his throat, squeezing. He tips his head back to get some air and has a glimpse of Bucky’s face; for a moment, he sees the Winter Soldier again. 

Then Bucky lets him go and they both collapse onto the floor, panting. 

“I win,” Bucky says.

“Jerk,” Steve replies automatically.

“Punk,” says Bucky. Steve looks at him sharply, but Bucky’s already getting up. He lets it go, but can’t help grinning again.

On their way out they bump into Tony, towel draped around his neck. “Hey, it’s my favourite pair of frozen super soldiers. Nice to meet ya.” He holds out a hand to Bucky, who ignores it. “Not big on the touching, huh? Understandable. And, hey, that is one hell of an arm you’ve got there. If you ever want to make it, like, a _million_ times better you should come by the lab sometime.” He disappears into the gym.

Bucky looks at Steve as they get into the lift. “Who was that.” 

“That’s Tony Stark.” He hesitates. “Do you...remember Howard?”

“There was a man in a car.” Shit. “I killed him.” _Shit._

The lift doors slide open at their floor. Bucky stays in the lift, staring at nothing. “Tony is his...son?”

Steve is an idiot. An insensitive, loud-mouthed idiot. “Come in, Bucky.” He does. The tension that had left him in the gym is all back; he’s gritting his teeth. Both of his hands are twitching.

“This is his tower. Stark Tower.”

“Yes.”

“I killed both of them. The man and the woman.”

“Yes.” Steve doesn’t know what to do. He wishes Sam was here. He wishes Tony had gone for his workout five minutes later.

“Why is he letting me stay?”

“Bucky, he knows it was HYDRA who did it, not you-”

“But it _was_ me!” Bucky raises his hands to his hair, takes chunks of it in his fists, tugs hard. “Why are you always saying it wasn’t me?!”

“Bucky…” Steve approaches him, arms raised placatingly. Bucky isn’t making eye contact; is sinking to the floor in the hallway. Steve sits down in front of him. “Bucky. Please look at me.” He doesn’t. “Let go of your hair. Please.” No response; just quick breathing, wide eyes. He’s gone. 

Steve sits next to him and tries a different tactic. “When I first met you,” he starts, “you were a kid with gaps in his teeth and mud on your knees and fists up to defend me, even though you didn’t even know me. And when you did get to know me, you defended me in every fight I started and sat with me every time I got sick. You stole food and blankets and medicine for me and my mom. You saved my life countless times then, and countless times in the war when you were watching my back. 

“Six weeks ago, you pulled me out of a river and didn’t even know why. You remembered me through everything, and you saved my life. That’s not a bad person, or a monster, or whatever you’re thinking. That’s a loyal and brave friend, a good man. A loving man. A man who stayed good for decades. And - and that’s what Tony sees too. So...that’s why,” he finishes lamely, and looks across. 

Bucky’s hands are still in his hair, but they’re not pulling. His eyes are closed, lips pressed tightly together. “Bucky?” A quick nod. “Can you let go of your hair?” He shakes his head. “Okay. I - I’m going to touch your hands, okay? I just don’t want you to hurt yourself. So. I’m going to do that now.” Carefully, slowly, Steve covers Bucky’s hands with his own, peels his fingers out of the dark mass of hair around his face. He feels Bucky shaking. “Are you with me?”

Bucky takes a long, shuddering breath, then pitches forward, arms reaching. Steve catches him easily, wrapping his arms around Bucky as he clings to him and cries. It feels like he cries decades of tears. 

Steve has to remind himself to breathe when Bucky finally pulls back. “I’m going to bed,” he says after a moment, and stands up, rubbing his flesh hand over his face. 

“Okay,” Steve says from his place on the floor. “But - I’ll be here. If you need me.”

Bucky just nods in acknowledgement, not looking back, and disappears into his room. Steve stays on the floor for a little while longer, thinking. Then he texts Sam.

_To: Sam  
Bucky met Tony and remembered killing his parents. Then he broke down and cried on me. Is that good?_

_From: Sam  
Probably. It's a totally normal reaction  & another memory he has back, even if its not a gd one. Trust Tony to make him cry tho._

He pauses before he writes the next text, butterflies in his stomach. He knows the 21st century is different, but he can’t shake the fear.

_To: Sam  
I also need to tell you something about me and Bucky._

_From: Sam  
Im not an idiot. u may as well have hearts in ur eyes. But he cant handle ANYTHING like that yet, so don’t push._

_To: Sam  
Hey, I'm not an idiot either. I just...wanted you to know._

_From: Sam  
dude we ALL know. u did basically try to kill urself twice for the guy (we are gonna have WORDS about that btw). _

_To: Sam  
Well. That’s good, I guess. Saves me explaining._

_From: Sam  
Ur rly overestimating how subtle you are._

_From: Sam  
Also, did u ever meet Rhodey? Tony’s friend?_

_To: Sam  
No. Why do you ask?_

_From: Sam  
hes just rly cool. _

Steve’s smiling again when he goes to bed.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets Tony - properly, this time.

_It seems that all my bridges have been burnt_  
_But you say that's exactly how this grace thing works_  
_It's not the long walk home that will change this heart_  
_But the welcome I receive with every start_

_\- Roll Away Your Stone, Mumford and Sons_

**Bucky**

He curls up around his pain and tries desperately to remember Howard Stark.

He knows from the exhibition that they met in the war; but when he thinks "Howard" he can only see a man through a windshield and a spray of blood on the car seat. Eventually, he falls asleep, but his dreams are filled with smoke and screeching tyres. When he wakes, he’s made a decision.

After Steve goes for his run, Barnes slips out into the lift. He remembers the computerised voice from his first day here. “Tony Stark’s lab,” he says, and feels the floor move. 

When the doors open again, he’s hit with a blast of sound; pounding drums and a shrieking guitar. He cowers away from it instinctively, hands slapped over his ears. It stops suddenly.

“Hey! JARVIS, what gives?” 

“You have a visitor, sir.”

Barnes looks up and sees the man from yesterday - Tony Stark - facing him, some sort of tool in one hand and a visor over his face. 

_punishment_

He scrambles backwards into the lift. 

“Hey, hey there, no need to -” Tony cuts himself off, looks at whatever he’s holding, and drops it immediately. “Hey, no, hang on, I’m not gonna hurt you, god I’m an idiot, where the hell is Bruce when you need him - Dummy STAY - good boy - okay so.” Tony crouches in front of Barnes, pushing the visor off. He doesn’t seem angry. “Sorry about that. I was working, I wave things around a lot and sometimes I forget I’m holding them.” Barnes nods, unable to speak. “Wanna come in?”

Howard Stark’s son offers him a grease-stained hand. After a few deep breaths, he takes it, and follows Tony into the lab. He ignores the itching of his skin, the panic in his stomach; pushes it down to deal with later. It’s a mechanical lab, not medical. Not medical. Tony crosses his arms and leans against a workbench. He has grease on his face as well.

“So, what brings you down here? You looking for Steve?”

“No.”

“Well, I am both shocked and honoured. So, what do you need?” Tony’s face lights up suddenly. “Oh, hey, did you want me to look at your arm?”

“NO!” He didn’t mean to shout. Frustrated, he grabs at his hair, pulls. Why can’t he do this?

“Alright, easy, easy now, okay, no touching the arm, I got it, just let go for me because Steve will kill me if literally one hair on your head is harmed.” Tony’s arms are stretched out, but not touching him. Barnes breathes deeply, like Sam taught him; after a while, he can relax his hands, put them down. He clenches them by his side instead. “Okay, alright. It’s not my amazing brain you’re after. So...you want to talk?”

He nods again, knowing he can’t stay much longer. He’s still trying to form the words when he sees Tony’s face suddenly change from attentive interest to a careful blankness. “This is about my parents.” 

It’s not a question. “Yes.” He has to make sure Tony understands. “I killed them. I’m sorry.” Barnes forces himself to meet Tony’s eyes. It’s harder than looking at Steve’s. 

Tony’s expression suddenly relaxes, and he presses a hand to his face. He looks tired. “It was a long time ago, Barnes. And from what I can tell, you don’t have anything to apologise for. Not after what was done to you.”

He flinches at that, and then the urge to _getoutgetoutgetout_ takes over. He manages to get all the way to Steve’s living room before his knees give out. He leans his back against the sofa, trying to slow his breathing down. 

The sun is pouring through the window, warm on his face; he closes his eyes.

*

When he wakes up again, Sam is opposite him, reading a newspaper. There’s a covered bowl of soup and a bagel on the table beside him. Barnes sits up.

“Well, look who’s awake." Not mockery. Gentle amusement. "Hard night?”

He looks carefully at Sam, immediately alert. "Steve told you."

A shrug. "Not much, actually. Just that you remembered some stuff and were upset."

"Hm."

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Barnes shakes his head. "Okay, that's cool. Lunch?"

Afterwards, Sam says: "I thought we might talk about your arm today. How do you feel about that?"

 _No._ "Alright."

There’s a pause. "Did you know you just made a fist with that hand?" Barnes looks. He loosens it with some conscious effort. "Listen, you don't have to do or say anything if you don't want to. We can always leave it for today."

"No." Sam waits, but Barnes doesn't have anything else to add.

"Alright. Can you tell me how you feel about your arm?"

"I hate it." The words come easily, unexpectedly.

"Why?"

"It's..." He tries to find the right word for the heaviness of the arm, the coldness of it, the continuous pain. "Dangerous."

"Why do you think that?”

"I’m dangerous." He hadn't said that out loud until now. He’s gritting his teeth, can’t seem to stop. "I kill people. With the arm. That's all I do. I don't know how to do anything else."

"Think you could learn?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Do you think you could learn to do something different?"

Barnes knows he used to do other things. The museum said that he had danced, that he read, that he knew how to repair things. 

Steve had said he was a good friend.

"Stop."

"Okay." Sam stands up. "Listen, you probably don't realise it, but you're doing really well.” 

If he adds anything else, Barnes is thinking too hard to hear it.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky, Steve, and Sam watch a Disney movie.

_Once you have loved someone this much_  
_You doubt it could fade_  
_Despite how much you'd like it to_  
_God how you'd like it to fade_

_\- Fade Together, Franz Ferdinand_

**Steve**

Bucky has been quieter than usual for the past few days, though everything else has carried on as normal. They even go to the gym, though Tony doesn’t turn up again. It feels like Bucky is thinking hard about something.

So it doesn’t take Steve completely by surprise when Bucky turns to him after dinner and says: “Tell me more. About what I was like.”

Steve puts his pencil down. Bucky looks nervous, but it's not the worst emotion he could be having. He decides not to question it. "You were generous, always giving your time and your money to anyone you thought needed it. You’d go out dancing a lot. You did stuff just for the hell of it; jumping into rivers, climbing trees, that sort of thing. But you were always looking out for me to make sure I didn't catch cold or fall or anything. In the war, you got...sadder. Tougher. But you were always there. Always steady."

Bucky's mouth quirks, not quite a smile. "Doesn’t sound like me."

"I don't know," Steve says, more lightly than he feels. "You always come back." _To me,_ he adds silently. "Why do you ask?"

"I just. Wanted to know. See if I can be like that again." 

Steve remembers what Sam said about choices. "You don't have to. You can just be who you are now."

Bucky frowns at him. "But you want me to be like I was before."

"No, that's - " He sighs, because of course that's the impression he's been giving. "That's not it at all. I'm not expecting you to be anything for me."

There's a few moments where Bucky digests this. "Then what do you want?" There's a new note to his voice, one that Steve hasn't heard before and can't put his finger on.

"To help you." Steve tries not to wonder what other answer Bucky could have expected.

"But." He's struggling. "You don't get anything from me."

Steve stares. "You don't owe me anything, Bucky, ever. I promise."

He nods, but Steve doubts that he really grasped it. He leaves it alone. 

*

_To: Sam  
Bucky thinks he owes me something. What do I do?_

_From: Sam  
u read the files too. u know they took things away  & only gave them back for "good" behaviour. u cant do anything about it tho. he has to learn to trust u._

_To: Sam  
I feel sick. _

_From: Sam  
do u want me to come round 2night? I’ll bring movies._

_To: Sam  
Please. Also, why would you bother shortening "tonight" like that?_

_From: Sam  
u fought for my right to text how I want_

_To: Sam  
Hmm. I'm not sure about that._

*

Bucky stays in the living room even when Sam comes round, sitting on the floor in a patch of sunlight. If Sam is surprised, he doesn't show it.

"Want to watch a movie with us?" Sam shows Bucky the DVDs he's brought. "Both of you missed way too much Disney, so I've got the Hunchback of Notre Dame or Aladdin."

Steve shrugs. "I'm happy with either. Bucky?"

After a hesitation, he takes the DVDs from Sam and reads them. Then: "Hunchback."

"Alright, Hunchback it is." Sam throws a variety of popcorn bags onto the sofa for Bucky to try. 

Quiet alarm bells start ringing when the first song asks the audience to decide who is a monster and who is a man. Steve steals a glance at Bucky from under his eyelashes, but he doesn't seem to mind.

When the bad guy is telling the hero that he is deformed and hated, Steve worries a bit more. 

"Out there they'll revile you as a monster," sings Frollo.

"I am a monster," Quasimodo replies.

He tries to catch Sam's eye, but he doesn't seem concerned; and when he looks again at Bucky, he isn't reacting badly. He's just...paying attention. 

So Steve relaxes too. By the end credits, he's humming along. 

"Liked it, huh?" Sam says, grinning. Steve has a strong suspicion that soon everyone will know he's partial to Disney songs. 

"What did you think, Bucky?" He says, trying not to think about the number of jokes Tony will inevitably come up with.

"It was good. Fun."

"Yeah?"

Bucky looks down, doing his smile that isn't quite a smile. "I know the difference between cartoons and reality, Steve."

It's the first time he's used Steve's first name. He chokes a little on the familiarity of it. "Sorry."

"It's okay." He gets up and stretches, clearly heading to his room; he pauses next to Sam. "Thanks. For the film."

"No problem, man." After Bucky's gone, Sam raises an eyebrow. "He seems to be doing pretty well, actually."

Steve shrugs, mentally adding popcorn to the safe food list. "I was just worried about earlier. I don't want him pretending to be someone he's not for me."

"Well, if he did, he wouldn't be the only one pretending."

Oh, hell. "Listen, I'm not the one who got tortured and brainwashed for decades --"

"But you did lose literally everyone you loved, except for your best friend who you watched fall down a mountain before you decided to crash your own plane. _And_ came back from the dead, was brainwashed to kill you, nearly did, and is now your roommate." Sam's face is clearly saying 'you're not getting out of this one'. "How are you doing? Really?"

Steve really doesn't want to do this. "I'm fine."

"Man, if you say that one more time I will throw this whole bowl of popcorn at you."

He sighs. "Okay, so it's...hard. I miss Peggy, and the Commandos. I miss knowing what I’m doing, what my purpose is, which way is right. And - “ He swallows. “I miss Bucky. Even though he’s right here.” He looks at his hands. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Sam.”

Sam leans back in his chair. “Tell me what you miss about Bucky," he suggests.

“His laugh,” Steve says immediately. “His smile. I miss being able to touch him, and him touching me - not only in a romantic way, just. Leaning against me or messing up my hair or hitting me to shut me up. We used to share a bed, even before we were...together. And now I can't touch him at all, unless we're fighting."

"That kind of thing will come with time. He's still getting used to the idea that touching doesn't automatically mean pain."

'I know, I just...wish I could comfort him more. I know he understands that I’m trying to help him, but..." Steve reminds himself that it is the 21st century and Sam is his friend. It still takes him a few excruciating minutes, eyes stinging. "I love him so much, and I miss telling him that. Showing him how much I love him. I could just about handle it when I thought he was dead, but now he's - worse, he’s - " 

He stops, breathing hard. Sam’s hand is warm on his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says, and Steve crumbles because it _isn’t_ , it couldn’t be any less okay. _He_ isn’t okay.

He isn’t okay.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky thinks he knows what Steve wants. It goes wrong. 
> 
> TW for dubcon kissing and implied sexual assault.

_What is it I don't remember_  
_Made my being so much better?_  
_If I could have_  
_Just one pure thought_

_\- One Pure Thought, Hot Chip_

**Bucky**

_I miss being able to touch him, and him touching me,_ Steve had said. Barnes knows what that means. He can do that, for Steve. And it’s not as if he hasn’t done this before.

The next morning, he hears Steve in the kitchen and goes to meet him. “Morning,” he remembers to say.

Steve turns and smiles, surprised and genuine. For a split second Barnes wonders if it was really him sobbing last night. “Hey, Buck.” He holds up the saucepan. “Wanna try pancakes?”

“Sure.” He hesitates as Steve turns back around to the stove, then reminds himself of everything he owes. He steps forward, slides an arm around Steve’s waist.

“Bucky? What are you -” Barnes leans forward and kisses him before he can finish the sentence.

_“You belong to me now. Understand?” The Asset nods. “Good. Turn over.”_

_nononononononononononono_

He comes back to himself on the floor. Steve is crouched in front of him, looking as if he’s been hit in the face instead of kissed. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“I don’t -” His teeth are chattering; he clamps them together. “I wanted to let you touch me. Like you said.”

He watches Steve’s face run through a long list of emotions, but his voice stays calm. “You heard?”

“Yeah.” Barnes clenches the metal hand a few times before forcing himself to stop. He can’t look at Steve. “We were together, before. And now I’m. Barely a person. I was trying to - to pay you back.” Shame floods him, familiar and nauseating. He could never be enough.

Steve seems to sense where his mind is going. “Hey, listen to me. I told you, you don’t owe me or anyone else a damn thing. I don’t expect anything from you, and especially not anything...intimate.” He pauses. “Sam said you asked him to call you Barnes. Would it help if I stopped calling you Bucky?”

_**NO** _

“No.” He shakes his head, trying to empty it. “I’m just. It would be easier to pretend to be him than stay like this.”

There’s silence for a while. “I can understand that a little. Pretending to be something you’re not, I mean. But I swear you don’t have to do that.” He stops again, then: “Do you believe me?”

Barnes doesn't lie. “I can try.”

Steve smiles again, but it’s sadder than before. “Thank you.” He stands, and starts to offer a hand up before withdrawing it. Barnes wishes he could take it. He wishes he could do a lot of things. “So,” Steve says abruptly, “You can hear everything?”

“Yes. Unless you’re outside.”

“Hm. Your hearing’s better than mine.” Steve looks at the stove, and suddenly Bucky sees another version of him, smaller, thinner, frowning at a pan. “It was pancakes, right?”

He blinks the image away. “Yeah.”

“Crack some eggs for me?”

He nods, and they make breakfast.

*

He doesn’t spar with Steve that day. He just does calisthenics on the balcony and waits for Sam to come by. 

“I want to talk about something today,” he says as Sam sits down. It’s getting easier to look at him, but he can’t do it today.

“That’s good. What do you want to talk about?”

“The memories I have, that make me...” He doesn’t have an adequate word for it. “Leave.”

“Okay.”

Now he’s talking about it, he doesn’t know where to start. He picks the most useful question. “How do I stop?”

Sam leans forward, hands pressed together. “For a lot of people, it doesn’t stop. But you can learn to control it. Your mind is still trying to process what’s happened to you. You need to let it happen.”

“I can’t. I’ll go mad.” He feels his mouth twist. “Madder.”

“Okay. What do you mean by that?”

“I won’t find my way back.”

“But you’ve done it so far. Every time.” Barnes doesn’t have a response for that. “I have something that might help you, if you want to try it. Wait here a sec.” Sam disappears into Steve’s room and comes back out with a box. “Here. See if you like any of them.”

Barnes takes it, looks inside. It’s full of small objects - a squeezy ball, a soft toy rabbit, a piece of quartz, a faux fur scarf, a ridged piece of wood, a heavy ball bearing, a smooth blue stone, a dried starfish. 

“What are these for?” he asks, picking up the quartz. 

“They’re to help remind you where you are, and that you’re safe. Pick one to hold when you feel yourself starting to leave. Do you want to try that for a couple of weeks?”

“Okay,” he agrees. The quartz is warming in his hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Barnes.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes outside.

_I made a vow_  
_To carry you home_  
_If you fall sick_  
_If you pass out_

_\- So Here We Are, Bloc Party_

**Steve**

“Do you want to come to the grocery store with me?”

Bucky looks up warily from where he’s been staring out of the window; but he nods. Steve knows this could be difficult, but Bucky has to leave some time. He goes to get his wallet.

He hasn’t told Sam about the kiss, and he doesn’t know if he will. The worst part is that he’d dared to think that Bucky had actually remembered, had still felt the same; he’d started to kiss back. Then Bucky had lurched away, eyes wild and unseeing, and Steve’s stomach had dropped. He takes a breath and tries not to start blaming himself again. 

Bucky fidgets in the lift, rubbing his fingers over the piece of quartz from Sam’s box. His metal hand has his old black glove on it. Steve only gets as far as “Are you sure-” before Bucky’s shaking his head fiercely.

“I need to try,” he says. It's progress.

They leave through the Avengers-only back entrance to the Tower. Bucky is visibly jumpy, not speaking, not looking at anyone, hood pulled up well over his face - but he’s outside, and he’s with Steve, and he’s not fighting or running. That’s more than he could’ve hoped for a month ago. 

The store is busy. “Just stay with me,” Steve murmurs, picking up a basket. “It’ll be okay.” He hopes he isn’t lying.

They get a fair way through the store. Bucky has even picked out vanilla pudding. Steve is looking at ice cream when he hears it.

“Hey! Hey, Captain America!” 

Steve turns, automatically plastering his all-American-hero smile onto his face. He can feel Bucky tensing behind him. 

It’s a little girl, maybe six or seven; her mom is at the other end of the aisle, looking at frozen vegetables and potato smiles. There’s a baby in her cart. “Hey, kid,” he says, crouching down. “What’s your name?”

“Gabby,” the girl grins, showing a big gap in her front teeth. The beads in her hair rattle as she starts jumping up and down. “I knew it, I knew it was you!”

“Well,” Steve says in a stage whisper, “That’s because you’re extra smart. I’m in disguise, see?”

Her mouth drops open. “Are you on a secret mission?”

“Something like that,” he smiles. Gabby immediately starts rummaging in her backpack, and eventually holds out a green book.

“Can you sign this for me? I’m gonna meet _all_ of the Avengers and get everyone’s signature!”

Steve signs it and straightens up, privately hoping she never does meet all of the Avengers at the same time - it usually means there's a disaster. “Have a great day, Gabby.”

“You too!” She says, before bounding off back to her mom. 

Steve risks a glance at Bucky. He’s looking at the floor, breathing fast; his fingers are gripping the quartz in his pocket. “Do you want to leave?” He shakes his head.

“I’m okay,” he says, but his voice is small.

“Alright, let’s go and check out.” Steve grabs both flavours of ice cream he was looking at - chocolate and strawberry - and they head to the tills. Bucky sticks close behind him, head down. The cashier takes years.

The tightness in Bucky’s face loosens a little once they're outside, and he accepts the bags Steve hands over to him. 

They’re halfway back to the tower when a car backfires. Bucky immediately tackles Steve to the floor, then stands over him and draws his gun - and when did he take that back? “Bucky, hey, it’s okay, it’s-” Bucky whips around, teeth bared, still pointing the gun. Steve immediately puts his hands up. “It’s me, Bucky. It’s Steve. You’re okay. We’re both okay. It was just a car.”

There are a few agonising moments, and then Bucky's face crumples in on itself, the hard, determined lines of the soldier disappearing. "I thought-"

"I know. It's okay. Can you give me the gun, Buck? Please?"

He does. Steve gathers up the spilled groceries and they get back to the Tower in one piece. He's fairly sure no one saw them.

Bucky immediately shuts himself in his room. Steve looks at the door for a second, then knocks.

"Hey. I know you probably don't want to talk, but you did really well today. I'm proud of you."

There's no reply, but Steve wasn't expecting one. 

*

Tony is away for a conference, so Steve spends some time just with Bruce. They watch Brief Encounter (which he'd only missed by a few years) and drink chamomile tea.

Somehow, Steve finds himself telling Bruce everything. He's a good listener, even if he isn't "that kind of doctor".

"Do you think he remembers being with you?" Bruce asks afterwards. "I mean, he knows you were together, but do you think he remembers?"

"No. He said a while ago that he barely remembers anything about me." Steve suddenly really wishes he could get drunk.

"Hm." Bruce takes a considering sip of tea. "But he told you to sleep more, called you a punk, can tell when you’re worrying about him, and the first thing he did when he thought you were being shot at was try to protect you?"

"Where are you going with this?"

He shrugs. "Nowhere in particular. I just think he might remember more than he's letting on. He might not even know it." He pauses. "You know he apologised to Tony? For killing his parents?"

"I...no. I didn't know. When did he do that?"

"He went down to the lab the day after you ran into Tony at the gym. Tony says he was clearly terrified the whole time and bolted like a rabbit afterwards. I don't think Tony really understood until then exactly what's happened to Bucky. I don't either, really; but I do know what it's like to have your mind taken over by something else. But then," Bruce smiles bitterly, "At least I did that to myself."

Steve looks at him, an idea forming. "Do you want to talk to him?" 

"Me?"

"Yeah. You have a surprising amount in common." Like undeserved self-hatred, though Steve knows Sam would call him a hypocrite for thinking that.

"I, um. I don't think it's such a good idea to put the guy who pulls guns at loud noises with the guy who will turn into a giant green monster if he feels threatened. No offence."

"None taken. Just think about it." Steve looks directly at Bruce. "He needs all the help he can get."

Bruce looks straight back, unimpressed. "Wow, Tony's right. You are a walking guilt trip."

He still says yes.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets Bruce.

_I need another place_   
_Will there be peace_   
_I need another world_   
_This one's nearly gone_

_Still have too many dreams_   
_Never seen the light_   
_I need another world_   
_A place where I can go_

_-Another World, Antony And The Johnsons_

**Bucky**

He has a dream instead of a nightmare. He knows it’s a dream because Steve is there and he remembers everything that happens.

In the dream, both of his arms were human, and his hair was short. They were in a forest, sitting next to a fire. Nothing was hurting and no one was talking. Their breath hung in the air in front of them. Their fingers were touching.

That’s all it was, but his face is wet and he tastes salt when he wakes up. He’s not sure whether it’s just a dream or if it was a memory. He doesn’t know whether to ask Steve or not. 

He stays awake after that, rubbing his thumb over the piece of quartz. Steve had said he was proud of him yesterday, just for going outside. He can’t decide if that makes him feel more or less pathetic. 

When the sun comes up, he gets up and has a bath. He still can’t bring himself to face the shower. Maybe he never will. 

The arm has started sticking at the elbow. He ignores it. 

Steve isn’t there when he comes out of his room, so he settles down to wait. It doesn’t take long, but there’s someone new with him when he returns, a dark haired man with glasses and wary eyes.

“Hey, Buck. I want you to meet Dr Bruce Banner.”

“Doctor?” His metal hand clenches. He loosens it, but it doesn’t help the sudden panic.

“I’m a physicist,” the doctor says quickly. “Not a medical doctor. Technically.”

“Oh.”

“What should I call you?”

“Bucky is fine.” And it is. It has been for a day or so. He sees the surprise on Steve’s face. _He never did hide his emotions well,_ something tells him, and he’s inclined to believe it.

“Okay, Bucky it is, and I'll be Bruce.” The doctor comes into the living room and sits opposite him on the floor by the window. Steve leaves quietly. "I'm going to try to show you how to meditate, which is a way of controlling your mind and calming your thoughts. Nothing physical, it's mostly breathing slowly and being quiet."

Like waiting for a target. Bucky nods. He can understand this.

Bruce shows him a candle and asks him to watch it, to think of nothing in particular. His voice is mild. Everything about him is mild, unthreatening. Bucky holds the quartz. Lots of people seem kind at first.

Bruce says: "So, try not to think of anything in particular, though you'll find that random thoughts will come along. To start with, just acknowledge them, and let them go. If you lose concentration, just look at the flame again."

He tries. He hears the way Bruce is breathing and copies him: deep, even breaths. He wonders why Bruce needs to calm himself, then shakes the thought away. He's meant to be thinking of nothing. He closes his eyes.

_"You are nothing."_

The quartz is warm in his hand when he reflexively clenches his fist. He opens his eyes and looks at the candle. He tries again. 

For a while, there’s just quiet. He listens to Bruce’s breathing, stares at the flame. It’s peaceful.

_Steve looks across at him, lying in a tent._

_"You know I could never leave you behind."_

_"Yeah, I know," Bucky says. He reaches out to run a hand through Steve's hair. "I'm sorry I left you, though."_

_"Well, now I'm a miracle of science. It's not so bad," Steve says, smiling. He moves his head to kiss Bucky's palm, then leans closer, his face changing into someone else--_

He drops the quartz on the floor and jolts back to the room.

"It's not working," he says. 

Bruce opens his eyes and Bucky feels a sudden rush of fear - feels the whisper of _failure, punishment_ \- but he only leans down and hands Bucky his rock back. "It does take practice. We've been here for ten minutes, which isn't bad for a beginner."

"I have too many thoughts."

Bruce laughs a little. "We all do. Do you want to try one more time?" He shakes his head. "Alright. What about tomorrow?"

"Okay." Bucky remembers his question, decides to ask it. "Why do you do it? Meditate."

Bruce sighs. "Well, the short version is that I experimented on myself, and now if I get upset, or angry, or scared - anything that raises my heart rate, really - I turn into a monster." Bucky looks at him. He's smiling, but it's bitter. "It's true. JARVIS can show you."

"The computer."

"Yeah. JARVIS?" There's no response. "Huh. Unmute?"

"Unmuted, sir."

"I guess Steve didn't want him to scare you." That sounds accurate. "He can tell you anything you want to know, turn the lights on and off, play music. Like, uh. JARVIS, play my yoga soundtrack." 

The room fills with an eerie sound, booming and keening, alongside waves and bubbles. Bucky flinches, remembering being underwater, remembering being held there until he blacked out. He feels his breathing quicken and tries to slow it down.

"JARVIS, stop!" The sound stops as suddenly as it started. "Hey, Bucky..." Bruce comes to sit directly in front of him. "You're going to hurt yourself."

He looks down, sees how hard he’s holding the quartz, and suddenly realises that he didn't leave. He remembered, but he didn't leave. “Maybe we can try again,” he says.

*

After that, Bruce comes by for half an hour every morning while Steve’s on his run. Gradually, Bucky improves at meditation, managing to hold himself in stillness for longer and longer. He finds more memories, though a lot of them he wishes had stayed forgotten. He has almost half of the war now. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about it, knowing he killed people even before HYDRA. He knows the Commandos’ names and what they were like. He remembers the dirt and the terror and the cold. The only good thing was Steve, though now it’s bittersweet. He’ll never have that again.

Before the war, he has vague memories of a family he assumes are his; but it’s mostly Steve, shorter and thinner. Steve drawing, Steve watching him dance, Steve bruised and bleeding but still smiling. Steve kissing him. 

One afternoon, Bucky decides to try the computer. "JARVIS?"

"Good afternoon, Sergeant Barnes."

He winces at that title. "Bucky's okay."

"Very well, Bucky."

"Can you show me what Bruce meant about being a monster?"

He watches the video. He thinks maybe Bruce understands more than he thought.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big TW on this chapter for mentions of rape/sexual assault - and more in the next chapter too, so be warned. I had to go to a dark place for this.
> 
> Bucky's recovery is not linear. There's quite a bit of mood whiplash happening.

_Is there a powder to erase this?_   
_Is it dissolvable and tasteless?_   
_You can't imagine how I hate this_   
_Graceless_

_\- Graceless, The National_

**Steve**

Steve realises he's forgotten his phone when he's two blocks away, and immediately heads back for it, knowing from experience that disasters can happen any time. When he opens the door, he's greeted by the sight of Bucky and Bruce, breathing in tandem with a candle between them. 

Bucky's face looks almost completely relaxed, so much like the man he used to be. He feels a sudden, unjust flash of jealousy that Bruce can give Bucky this when Steve can't.

"Take a picture," Bucky says, eyes still closed, and Steve realises he's staring. His face heats up immediately.

"Sorry, just forgot my, um..." He sees the phone on the counter and stuffs it in his pocket. "Got it!"

He's almost halfway through his route when it hits him that Bucky made a joke. 

*

_To: Sam  
Bucky made fun of me today._

_From: Sam  
im amazed it took him this long. _

_From: Sam  
srsly tho, thats rly good news_

_To: Sam  
Yeah, it is. I really think he's coming back to himself. Thank you for everything you've been doing with him. _

_From: Sam  
u dnt need to thank me. he was in a rly rly bad place. im glad i could help_

_To: Sam  
Well, I'm thanking you anyway, so you'd best accept it. _

_From: Sam  
yes sir captain america sir_

_To: Sam  
Are you free to hang out tonight? Maybe another Disney movie?_

_From: Sam  
nah, cant do tonight; going to dinner with rhodey._

_To: Sam  
Wow. Is it a date?_

_From: Sam  
nt sure. bt i hope so! _

_From: Sam  
i can come round 2morro instead if u want?_

_To: Sam  
That'd be great. Have fun tonight!_

_From: Sam  
im sure i will ;)_

*

They're having a quiet evening in when Tony calls. Bucky is lying on the sofa, reading something on a tablet. His metal arm is at a weird angle, but Steve supposes that it probably doesn't hurt.

Bucky's discovered technology in the last few days, devouring videos, e-books, and blogs. Steve's drawing him, still not quite able to believe that he can do this from reality instead of memory.

His phone vibrates suddenly on the table, making Bucky flinch. Steve apologises with his eyes and answers it.

"Hey Tony."

"Cap, listen, I just realised that I am the only one who's seen The Princess Bride and that, my friend, is something we've got to change right now." Well, he's definitely tipsy. "Get both your ninety year old asses down here because you two and Bruce are going to meet Inigo Montoya and like it."

"Tony, I'm not sure if--"

"Oh come on, me and Barnes buried the hatchet ages ago, he'll be fine! Well, maybe not fine, but I can hide all the knives." He hangs up.

Steve sighs, deciding not to tell Tony that Bucky probably has at least two weapons on him at all times. He looks over at him. "Tony wants us to go and watch a film about a princess with them. Do you want to?"

Bucky considers it for a minute and nods. He's never been to the communal floor before and lingers behind Steve, looking around at the abstract paintings and minimalist sculptures (the complete opposite of the few landscapes Steve's dotted around on his own floor). 

Bruce waves from one of the beanbags, and Tony's head pops up above the sofa. "Hey, it's the dynamic duo!" 

"Hi, Tony."

"Just so you know," Bruce says, "this was not my idea."

"Yeah, 'cause all your ideas are stupid."

"Shut up, Tony."

Steve drops onto the smaller sofa, since Tony is taking up the whole length of the big one. "You coming, Buck?"

To Steve's surprise, Bucky sits next to his feet, leaning on his leg. Mercifully, Tony has enough sense not to comment. The film turns out to be pretty funny, though Tony keeps quoting along until he falls asleep. But it's nice; weirdly light despite all the fighting.

Then the main character is captured, and Steve knows that anyone being strapped to a table is bad news.

When the screaming starts, Bucky tenses up, sitting ramrod straight. Steve can hear him breathing, quicker and quicker.

"Bucky?" Bruce, who can see Bucky's face, grabs the remote and turns the TV off. Steve slides down to the floor, sees Bucky's face taut with pain, eyes blank. He hasn't been this bad for a long time. "Okay, Buck, it's okay. You're safe now, you're here with me and Bruce and Tony. No one's hurting you." Steve sees Bucky's quartz abandoned on the floor and picks it up. "Listen, I'm just going to give you something to hold, help you come back."

He places the rock in Bucky's hand and curls his fingers around it, and suddenly Bucky's face flares back to life and he swings immediately, hitting Steve right on the temple. The world turns blinding white for a moment as he tips over, catching himself on one hand. There's movement next to him.

"Steve?" He blinks blood out of his eyes, sees Bucky's horrified face as he leans over him. The metal hand is cold on his neck, and whirrs strangely as he takes it away.

Ignoring the dizziness, he sits up. "It's okay. I'm fine."

Bruce appears with a first aid kit. "Let's clean that up."

Tony wakes up. "Oh, hey, did it finish?"

*

It takes a while for Steve to convince Bucky that he's not that hurt; privately, he's just glad Bucky didn't run away again. Tony apologises profusely, but Bucky’s not listening and Steve just wants to leave. He lets Bruce take over dealing with Tony and gets them back to their floor.

Bucky follows him into his room, and heads for Sam's box of objects on the window sill.

"You don't have to pick something different," Steve tries, guessing what he's thinking.

"But I hurt you. Again." He picks up a ball, squeezes it, puts it down again. Frustration is written all over him.

"Yes, but I'm fine."

"Steve, please. Don't try to make it okay." He pulls out a piece of driftwood, runs his fingers over it. "See. This'll do."

"Bucky..."

"Stop it, Steve." He shoves the wood in his pocket and crosses his arms, eyes bright and snapping. "It's my choice, right?"

He can't take that away from him. "Okay. But you know I don't blame you for anything, right? No matter what." Bucky is shaking his head, so Steve walks over to him. "Hey. Can you look at me?" He wants so badly to hold him. "None of this is your fault. Absolutely none of it."

There's a long silence. Steve can see Bucky trying to find the words for something. "They didn't just hurt me, Steve," he says eventually, looking at his feet. "They...used me. Like a- like a whore. And I just...lay there and took it. Every time."

It spreads through him like an oil spill. "I..."

"I shouldn't even be near you." He pushes past Steve and slams the door. Steve immediately follows, stands outside Bucky’s door. He can hear unsteady breathing at the foot of it.

“Bucky. Can you let me in? Please?”

“No.”

He slides down to the floor, guessing where Bucky’s head is. “Then can I talk to you from out here?”

A long pause. “Okay.”

“I’m not going to pretend I understand how you feel. But I want you to know that if you want to talk about it, I’m here. And so is Sam. And what I said earlier is still true. None of it is your fault, I promise. Everything they did is on them. Please believe that.”

“I should’ve fought harder.”

“Would they have stopped if you did?”

Another silence. “No. They never stopped. It didn’t--didn’t matter what I did. Even--” Bucky’s quiet for so long Steve starts to worry. Then: “Even when I pretended to like it, they just hurt me more.”

He has a moment where he wants nothing more than to feel all of their necks breaking in his hands, one by one. He shakes it off. "I'm sorry, Bucky. So sorry. For everything."

"I know," he says, voice small. "But it's not your fault, either."

Something knotted inside him suddenly loosens at that, and Steve can't speak for a long time. When he can, he only manages: "Thanks, Buck."

"You too."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HUGE TW again for rape/sexual violence/assault - nothing graphic, but it's obvious.
> 
> Bucky deals with being triggered so badly. Also, Thor visits.
> 
> This is a looong chapter, so there'll be a bit of a gap between this and the next one I think. Also, disclaimer: I know nothing about meditation, but from what I've read this seems okay.

_I'm not here_   
_This isn't happening_   
_I'm not here, I'm not here_   
_In a little while_   
_I'll be gone_

_\- How To Disappear Completely, Radiohead_

**Bucky**

He stays sitting against the door well after Steve goes to bed, trying not to think. Sam always says that talking helps, that he needs to let his mind process instead of avoiding it. He’s spent too long pushing this down.

He breathes. Just breathes. After a while, he tries to meditate, to reach for a place of calm. He closes his eyes.

_He spits out blood, knowing what happens next. What always happens next._

_He refuses to let them see his fear, kicks at them when they come at him with the restraints, hits out uselessly with his one arm._

_But there are five of them, and they grind his face into the floor, kick him in the ribs with steel-toed boots until he can only concentrate on being able to breathe, on not crying. Not screaming._

_He thinks they tear something this time, feels blood dripping down his thigh. He does scream._

When he comes back, he’s curled up in a defensive ball. The metal arm is whirring unhappily at being bent over his head. He straightens it with some difficulty. 

He doesn’t try to meditate again. The memories flood him, whether he wants them or not. 

_They strap the metal arm down first, though the Asset doesn’t fight any more._

_It is cuffed to the bed, wrists and ankles. It remembers to be silent, be still. It does not react to pain. It does not feel pain._

_It obeys._

Bucky doesn’t leave the room the next day, memories constantly surfacing. It improves a little when he remembers the ridged chunk of wood in his pocket and holds it. He hears Steve turn both Bruce and Sam away.

“Bucky?”

“I’m here.” It’s not really a lie.

“Are you coming out?”

“No.”

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.”

He doesn’t answer. When his legs begin to cramp he lies down on the floor, not wanting to use the bed. After it gets dark, Steve knocks again.

“Bucky. You should eat something.”

“I don’t want to.”

There’s a tiny thud. Bucky thinks it’s Steve’s forehead on the door. “Please?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky promises.

*

He keeps his promise. It’s difficult to look at Steve, but he does it. Steve gives him a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

“So. How are you feeling?”

He considers it, eating with his right hand. “Better.”

“Good. Better is good.” Steve takes a breath. “Listen. I don’t know how much you want Sam to know, but...I think you should tell him.”

“Maybe. Not today.”

“Alright.” Steve looks closely at him. “Is there something wrong with your arm?”

Of course he would notice. “It keeps getting stuck.”

“Tony can help with it if--”

“No.” Bucky lets go of his fork before he breaks it. “I don’t. The arm is.” He takes a moment, puts words in order. “I don’t want anyone touching it.”

“But if it’s not working right--”

“No!” He hits the table, didn’t mean to; covers his face. He feels like he’s relapsed. He's failing again.

He can feel Steve looking evenly at him. “Okay. But if it gets any worse, you have to go and see Tony.”

 _Why is Steve always right,_ he wonders, then shakes it off. When HYDRA come, the arm has to be working. “Fine.” 

*

Sam arrives and makes something mildly Asian with noodles, then sits down on the sofa with Bucky. He seems to be in a good mood, even for him. But Bucky doesn’t have much basis for comparison.

"First thing I gotta say is I'm going back to DC for a few weeks, so this'll be our last session for a little while. You need anything, you can call me on this number." He hands over a piece of paper. The numbers swim a little. He blinks it away. "Is that alright?"

"I guess." Sam waits, but Bucky can't add anything.

“Okay. So, Steve texted me last night. Said you got triggered pretty bad and you might wanna talk about it.”

“Not now.”

“Okay. How are you doing with the meditation?”

“It was helping.”

“Was?”

“I. Tried to do it yesterday and it didn’t work.” Bucky shies away from thinking about it.

“That’s not unusual if you're distracted,” Sam notes. “If I remember right, concentration is pretty key."

Bucky looks at him, dismayed. “Then what’s the point?”

“Well, I don’t do it myself, but Bruce says that it helps him remember that he does still have control a lot of the time. So, I guess that’s the point: to give you a daily reminder of your control.” He doesn't say anything to that. “Is there anything you wanna talk about in particular?”

“I kissed Steve,” he says.

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “You did, huh?”

“About ten days ago.” Bucky looks at Sam. “He didn’t say anything?”

“Nope.” Sam takes a moment to absorb it. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?” It’s a sincere question, not a leading one. He’s good at that.

“I kissed him and woke up on the floor. I don't remember much.”

“Why did you kiss him?”

“I overheard you both. That time when he cried. I thought-” Bucky has to look away. “I thought it would help.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t.”

“No." He smiles, bitterness flooding him again. "I can’t even give him that.”

Sam frowns. “Barnes, I don’t think he expects that from you.”

“He said he didn’t. But I wish I could. I remember...how we were.” His eyes are burning. “He told you he loves me, but I’m not that person any more. He just loves a memory of me.”

“Maybe you should ask him about that,” Sam says mildly. 

Bucky’s heart feels like it skips a beat; he grabs onto his piece of driftwood, breathes slowly. “Stop.”

“You got it.” Sam gets up, then pauses. “Steve said you go by Bucky now. That right? Can I call you that?”

“Yeah.”

He grins. “Cool. See you in a few weeks, Bucky.”

*

When Steve comes back in, Bucky’s still sitting there, listlessly staring out of the window. 

“We’ve got a visitor downstairs,” he says, smile wider than usual. “Do you want to meet him?”

“Who is it?”

“Um.” Steve rubs a hand through his hair. “Thor. Norse God of Thunder.”

“What.” Bucky doesn’t have the energy to make it a question. 

He smiles again. “Come and see.”

Tony and Bruce are both there. Bucky avoids looking at them, which isn’t hard: Thor dominates the room in full armour. “Captain! Your companion has agreed to make merry with us.” His smile is almost blinding as he offers Bucky his hand. “It is an honour. May I greet you as is proper for a fellow warrior?” 

Cautiously, Bucky nods, and takes Thor’s hand. 

“Well, there’s something I never thought I’d see,” he hears Bruce murmur. 

“My friend,” says Thor, smile fading, “The Captain has told me of your troubles. You have suffered greatly. Will you permit me to speak with you of a remedy?”

Bucky looks carefully at him, but Thor’s face is even easier to read than Steve’s. He nods to the balcony, and they go outside. For a moment, Bucky just takes in the sun setting over the city. 

“It is a beautiful sight indeed,” Thor says beside him, “One to rival the horizons of Asgard herself.”

“Asgard?”

“It is my home. And it is where I would take you to be healed, if you wish.”

That makes him turn. “What do you mean by healed?”

Thor’s face is serious. “It is not only humans who inflict such damage as you have endured. Steven has explained to me that your wounds are more of mind and soul than of your body; but the healing houses on Earth do not have the necessary powers to aid your malady. On Asgard, we could restore your memory and remove your fears. You would be as you were before being taken prisoner.”

“How?” He can only whisper it.

“I am no healer, but I believe they simply step into your mind and rebuild what has been lost.”

Bucky thinks of the cold metal on his temples, the pounding electricity, the knowledge that they were inside his thoughts and shaping them, again -- “No.”

Thor seems surprised. “You are certain?”

“Yes. But thank you.” He tries to smile; probably fails. “I’ve had enough people in my head.”

“Very well, Bucky Barnes. Should you change your mind, the offer stands always.” Thor claps him on the shoulder. He flinches, but there is no avalanche of memories. It's just a hand. “Come, let us join the others, for I must leave on the morrow. Stark has promised a feast!”

It turns out to be pizza, which Bucky remembers being smaller and without so many flavours. He tries a piece and waits to feel sick; when he isn’t, he ends up eating a whole pie to himself. 

“Look who’s got their appetite back,” says Steve, smiling again; then Tony makes a bet on who could eat more pizza, Steve or Thor, and the conversation quickly moves on. It reminds him of the Commandos, but not in a painful way. 

He doesn’t have any more flashbacks that night, and when they finally go back upstairs, he sleeps - truly sleeps, without dreams or nightmares. 

When he wakes up, he stares at the ceiling for a long time. He thinks about what Sam said about talking to Steve.

He thinks, _maybe._


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve goes on a mission.

_Yesterday I got so scared_  
_I shivered like a child_  
_Yesterday away from you_  
_It froze me deep inside_

_\- Inbetween Days, The Cure_

**Steve**

“So,” Steve says finally, “What did Thor say?”

“About what?” Bucky asks, tapping at his tablet.

He can’t quite keep the hope out of his voice. “He said something about healing? In Asgard?”

“I said no.”

“You…” Steve knows he’s staring, can’t help it. “Why?”

Bucky looks at him, jaw tight. “I don’t want anyone in my mind again, Steve. And--” He hesitates, then plunges on. “And I’ve fought really hard to get here. I don’t want to lose who I am now to who I was then. It would be like forgetting all over again.”

“Oh.” He drops his eyes, suddenly ashamed that he hadn't thought of that. “Of course. I didn’t think.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you’d be disappointed.”

Before Steve can explain that no, that’s not what he meant, his phone buzzes. It’s Fury. “Crap.” He picks up, automatically sitting up straighter on the sofa. “Thought you were on vacation. Indefinitely.”

“Something came up and I think you’d like to see it. I got a chopper waiting for you on the roof.” Of course he does. And of course he knows exactly where Steve is. He doesn't roll his eyes.

“Fury. I can’t go anywhere right now.” Steve takes a breath. “Bucky came back.”

“I know. He’ll survive. But a lot of other people won’t if you don’t get your ass up here.”

“I…” He looks helplessly at Bucky, who returns his gaze levelly. “How long for?”

“Three days, tops.”

He hesitates, but lives are at stake. “Fine.”

“See you soon, Cap. I think you'll find this one...cathartic.” He hangs up. Steve just holds his phone for a few minutes, agonising.

“You’re going somewhere,” Bucky says. His face is unreadable.

He sighs. “Fury needs me. He says people are in danger.”

“Go.”

“Bucky--”

“I’ll be here when you get back.” Bucky does his sad, twisted smile. “I promise I’ll remember to eat.” When Steve doesn't move, Bucky walks over to kneel on the floor in front of him. He inhales deeply, then reaches out, both hands on Steve’s face. Steve barely dares to breathe. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember this is what you do. This is what you were born to do. So go.”

Steve goes, one side of his face still cold where Bucky’s metal hand was. He tries not to think about how much that must have cost him, how strongly he must have needed to make his point. When he gets to the roof, the helicopter door swings open to reveal a very familiar redhead. “Nat?”

“Get in, soldier,” she says, smiling. 

“Morning, Cap,” Clint says from the pilot seat. “Let’s go shoot some bad guys.”

*

_To: Bruce  
Hey. I’ve got to leave town for a couple of days - Fury’s got a job that needs doing. Can you check in with Bucky for me?_

_From: Bruce  
Sure. I’ll even bring Tony. _

_To: Bruce  
Don’t let him blow anything up._

_From: Bruce  
You know me. Safety first._

*

“So, Cap, how’ve you been? Heard you’ve got a guest,” Clint says over the comm.

“Yeah.” Steve tries a smile. “He’s doing well, actually.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn't think he was,” Nat asserts. She’s cut her hair again. “Are you that sure about him?”

He guesses her real concern. “It’s been over a month, Nat. He’s not going to kill me.”

“Could be a long game." Her eyes are unfathomable. "That kind of thing runs deep.” 

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Steve suggests. "When we've finished...whatever this is."

"Maybe I will."

"Yeah, me too," Clint interrupts. "Plus, Stark owes me a bow. He's shit at poker."

*

The mission is about HYDRA. They've retreated to their last European base, taking hostages with them - including the British Prime Minister and the head of MI5. They're in the heart of London. Steve's not been to the city for a while, and there are somehow even more people, even higher buildings, than he remembers.

"See that one?" Clint points as they circle round. "They call it the Gherkin, 'cause it looks like a pickle and they use the wrong words for everything."

It's a monstrosity. "What goes on in there?"

"The fuck do I know?"

The base is below an abandoned underground station, right in the middle of the city. They meet Fury in an empty and surprisingly luxurious building a few streets away.

"I thought we didn't have SHIELD'S budget any more?" Steve whispers to Nat as they walk through intimidating corridors.

"We don't," she says. "Most of the buildings on this street have been bought by rich guys who don't even live here. Just needed a little persuasion."

"And you know Nat's good at that," Clint interjects.

She smiles sunnily.

*

_From: Bruce  
Bucky’s doing okay. He’s not using his metal arm much though._

_To: Bruce  
How bad is it?_

_From: Bruce  
He doesn’t seem to be in pain - though he’s definitely not happy - but his fingers are starting to freeze up. _

_From: Bruce  
Tony says to tell you he is literally dying to look at it._

_To: Bruce  
Tell him to wait until I get back or until Bucky says he can look at it._

_From: Bruce  
Will do. _

*

They suit up at nightfall. Clint stays outside to keep watch while Steve and Natasha drop silently down a disused lift shaft. The place is silent, in that expectant way that means your enemy knows you're there and is trying not to show it. He can feel himself slipping into a dark place, literally and metaphorically. But it feels good.

They break into one, two, three empty rooms before meeting resistance. Steve has no mercy. He snaps the last man's neck, and looks up to see Nat staring. "Let's keep moving," he says quietly.

There are two more rooms like that one, each group more desperate than the last as they realise their defences have failed. The last room is just a few scientists, most of whom have no idea how to hold a gun. The people in charge have clearly long gone, and Steve somehow hates them a little more for it. He would've liked to finish it.

Nat gets her hands on the last one. "Where are the prisoners?" She asks pleasantly.

"I'll never tell," says the man on the floor. 

But they always tell. Eventually. He gives them the code for the secret hatch that leads to the prison cells, and Steve breaks down their doors, releasing each politician and secret service agent. It's easy, and a part of him is deeply suspicious about that. Something isn't right.

There's one more door at the end of the corridor, with its own code. He looks at Nat and she fries it for him.

Inside is a chair with restraints. Bemused, Steve steps closer, noting a vice to keep the head still. Then he sees that the restraints for the left arm are much more robust than for the right, and realises what he’s looking at.

“Natasha,” he says quietly, “Please escort the Prime Minister and his colleagues outside.” 

She looks from him to the chair, and nods slowly, closing the door behind her. He breathes out and stops thinking.

He rips it apart. When he leaves, the floor is a mess of twisted metal and cables. His hands are bleeding. He doesn’t care. He thinks Bucky would understand.

*

They debrief quickly. Steve doesn't mention his sense of something being wrong about the mission; it's more than likely he was just reading things into it. All he wants to do is go home. For once, Fury has been true to his word - he's back in New York on the third day.

“See you soon, Cap!” Clint calls from the pilot's seat, and Nat surprises him with a hug. 

“Take care of yourself,” she says, her hand on his face. “I mean it.”

“I will,” he promises. “Come and visit soon.”

She smiles. “I just might do that.”

Steve is still distracted when he gets back in, so it’s only when he switches the lights on that he sees Bucky is sitting at the window. “Hey, Buck. I’m home.”

“Yes.” His voice is toneless; almost like it had been on that first night. Steve fights down the instant panic and crosses the room, kneeling down in front of Bucky.

“Bucky? You okay?”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. His face is full of fear and resignation. “It got worse. I can’t move it.” He swallows. “It has to be fixed.”

“Hey.” Steve carefully puts his hand on Bucky’s knee, squeezes it. “It’ll be okay. Tony is the best engineer around. He’ll make it right, I promise.”

“I can’t..." Bucky stops, closes his eyes. "I burn through anaesthesia too fast. I have to be awake.”

Steve’s stomach drops for a moment. But he only allows himself a moment. “We’ll figure it out, Bucky.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He just breathes.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky gets a new arm. Finally something nice happens!

_Let your colours return_   
_Turn a corner_   
_Every time he barks_   
_Just shut the devil out_   
_Let these arms embrace_   
_You know I’m down_   
_You will heal_

_\- The Healing, Bloc Party_

**Bucky**

They don’t make him go to the lab, but his human hand is shaking anyway. He sees Steve notice, and misery floods him. He managed to let them take a blood sample, but that was bad enough. His fingerprints are in the table now.

“Okay, so,” Tony says, turning around from the kitchen counter, “This thing will scan your arm to give us a 3D picture and let us know what we’re dealing with. I made it to scan my armour, so it should work for your arm too.” It’s a thick metal ring, large enough to pass his whole arm through. “Now, since you can’t move it at all, Bruce will put your hand in one end and I’ll run it up and down. That okay?”

Bucky nods. His jaw aches from gritting his teeth. He’s been quietly practising getting used to touch again, but he still feels like ants are under his skin.

“I’m gonna touch your arm now, Bucky,” Bruce says. 

He grabs onto Steve’s hand without thinking. “Hey, Buck. It’ll be okay.” Steve’s hand is warm and solid. He clings to it.

“Deep breaths,” Bruce reminds him. “You’ll be alright. Here we go.” He pulls at Bucky’s fingers, straightening the arm out. “Okay, Tony.”

The whole thing takes one hundred and fifty three seconds. Steve squeezes his human hand as Bruce puts the arm down. “They’re done now, Bucky.”

“Give me a few hours to upload this to JARVIS and I’ll let you know what we find and how I can fix it - because it is a how, not an if, as I am literally the best in the business - and Bruce will work on an anaesthetic, and we’ll go from there. You just let us know when you’re ready.” Bucky is pathetically grateful that Tony has no pity in his voice. He nods to him, letting out his breath.

“Thank you.” He forces the words out through his teeth.

“No need to thank me, princess, this is like Christmas,” Tony says as he breezes past.

*

Steve cooks, but Bucky can’t eat; he paces their floor, stomach in knots. The metal arm hangs uselessly by his side, weighing him down, reminding him how worthless he is now. It’s waking up whole new aches in him. He picks up his driftwood and holds it, running his fingers over the surface. It helps a little.

Steve watches him unhappily from the kitchen table. “Is there anything I can do?” He shakes his head tightly. “Will you let me know if there is?”

“Yes.” He looks lost. Bucky hates himself for putting that expression on his face. “You can go. If you want,” he offers. 

“I’m not going to leave you like this. Unless you want me to?” His hurt expression is worse. 

“No. Yes. I don’t.” He stops pacing, slumps down on the sofa. “I can’t think. Talk to me.” 

The cushions dip as Steve sits next to him. “Hey. Bruce is working on an anaesthetic for you, and Tony will have this figured out in no time. You’ll see.” 

He remembers screaming for hours, tasting blood. “What if it doesn’t work?” 

“Then we’ll figure something else out.” Steve pauses. “Can I touch you? Just on your back?” Bucky nods. Steve puts his hand between his shoulderblades, rubs in small circles. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” The touch is grounding him, helping him breathe. It's better than the driftwood. He lets it drop and leans into Steve, feeling the heat radiating from him. He smells like wherever home is. He turns his head, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder. He breathes in. “Steve.”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“I had a dream. A while ago. We were sitting like this, and there was a fire. I think it was in the war. But I don’t know if it was true or not.”

“It probably did happen. We had watch duty a lot.”

“I’m glad I remembered it.” 

They’re quiet a little longer. Bucky starts to feel like he does when he’s staring into the candle; weightless, peaceful. 

“Bucky?”

“Mm.”

“I wasn’t disappointed, before. When you turned Thor down, I mean. I was just hoping he could help you more than me.” A pause. “I want you to know that I respect your decision.”

He believes it. “Thanks.”

They sit in silence until Tony calls. Steve puts him on speakerphone. “Well, I got good news and bad news.”

“Give us the bad news first.”

“Well, this thing is basically screwed. It’s corroded on a pretty massive scale - which I’m guessing is from the river, because god only knows what’s in that water, urgh - so to fix it I’ll have to replace almost everything.”

“It’s been in rivers before,” Bucky interrupts. “This never happened.”

Tony hears him over the phone. “Yeah, but I’m guessing they rinsed everything out within a few days, right?” Bucky doesn’t say anything. “Thought so. Anyway, replacing it all is technically easy enough. But the whole thing is wired into the nervous system, so he’s going to feel everything we do until Bruce figures out an anaesthesia that Bucky doesn’t just immediately burn through--”

“At this rate, that’ll probably take weeks,” they hear Bruce call.

“Well, you heard him.” Tony sighs. “Wanna hear the good news?”

“Please.”

“We can avoid the whole thing and just replace it. Looks like it plugs right into a socket in the shoulder, pretty simple to work with, so I can make a brand new prototype and see how he does with it.”

“How long will that take?”

“With or without sleep?”

“With sleep, Tony.” Bucky almost smiles at that tone. That’s Captain America.

“Four to five days, a week tops.”

“Okay.”

“There’s one more thing. Is Bucky there?”

“Yeah, he’s listening.” Steve offers him the phone. He takes it.

“Hey, Bucky. Take it off speaker for a minute.” He does. “Now, we both know Captain Super Ears can still hear every word.” That’s true. Steve smiles, a little sheepish. “So can you go somewhere private for a sec?”

He goes outside, closing the door behind him and walking right to the edge of the balcony. “Okay.”

“Listen, I’m gonna be blunt,” Tony says, though his voice is more gentle than Bucky’s ever heard it. “From the way your arm is built, and the material it’s made of, you gotta be in pain constantly, even when it’s working. Am I right?”

His breath hitches. “Yeah. But. I can manage.”

“Bucky. This has to be tearing your muscles apart every time you move it. Hell, it’s probably hurting you right now just from dangling there.”

“I heal fast.” He remembers the tests to prove it, flinches away from the thought. 

Tony sighs. “Listen. Whatever I make for you will be way lighter and probably more sensitive. It’ll be better mechanically, and it won’t hurt.”

For a moment, he can't breathe. Then the meaning sinks into him. A new arm. A part of him HYDRA hasn't touched. He closes his eyes, forces words out. “I’m going back inside now.”

“Okay. You can put me back on speaker.” Steve looks up and he returns the phone. “Okay, Cap. When Bucky's ready, he can let me know what he decides.”

He can’t hold it back. “I.” Bucky clears his throat. “I'm ready now. The new one.” He looks at Steve, speaks to both him and Tony. “I want this one gone. Out of me.” He wants everything they did gone, but the arm is a good place to start.

It turns out you can hear Tony’s grin through the phone. “Your wish is my command.”

*

The new arm is ready in three days. Bucky has spent the time either in his room with the door barricaded or as close to Steve as possible; he can't decide whether he wants to be alone. Steve scolds Tony for blatantly living on caffeine again, but it’s obviously half-hearted. He’s bringing the arm upstairs so they can attach it.

Steve looks at Bucky. “Are you ready for this?”

He nods, though his heart is pounding in his ears. “There’s never gonna be a good time. May as well be now.” His voice is more steady than he feels. But he wants this, and when he sees the new arm he almost forgets to be afraid.

“Wow,” Steve says. “That’s...that’s beautiful, Tony. What do you think, Buck?”

Bucky reaches out and runs his hand over the metal, which warms quickly to his touch. There are no obvious joints and panels, no interlocking plates. It’s just smooth, like skin. It shines gently, begging to be touched. “Yeah,” he says. “It is.”

Tony grins. “Well, y’know. I am a genius.” He has a battered suit of his armour with him. Bucky doesn’t ask why.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t thank me til it’s on, pal.” Tony beckons Bruce over as Bucky sits down on the kitchen counter. “Okay, so first we’re gonna have to take the old one off entirely. Bruce is gonna take your fingers like last time, and I’ll deal with the socket in your shoulder. Underneath these panels, here, here, and here -” Tony taps each one lightly and Bucky tries not to jump. “- are the releases. After I unlock those, we'll twist it anti-clockwise and it should pop right out. Won’t take long.” Tony disappears behind his shoulder, and he feels pressure for a few minutes. “Alright, I’ve got access. On three, okay?” He nods. “Ready, Bruce? One, two--”

Bucky nearly topples over, is only saved by Steve catching at his right arm. He looks down at himself, at the place where the arm used to be. He can’t feel the fingers, though his brain is telling him he’s moving them. It’s gone.

“...with me, come on, you’re hyperventilating. Just in, one, two, three, out, one, two, three, there you go, you’re with us.” Bruce’s face swims into view. “Hey. You’re through the worst of it, okay?” He’s covered in cold sweat. “Alright. We’re gonna put the new one on now. You ready?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Okay. On three again, alright? One, two…” 

Everything flares back to life again, but this time when he falls he catches himself. He cries out at the sensation, so much more intense than before. The counter is cold and smooth.

“Bucky!”

He holds up his right arm, signalling ‘stay away’. He’s panting from the sudden sensitivity, but jumps down, swaying as he gets used to the lightness of his left arm. He tests it, holding it in front of himself, bending his elbow, making a fist. “Can I…”

Somehow, Tony knows exactly what he’s asking for, and drags the armour over. So that's what it was for. “Go to town.”

Bucky takes a breath, then swings his fist into the centre of the chest piece. He roars at the sensation, but recovers quickly. He withdraws his hand, flexes his fingers. The armour has a new hole in it.

He turns around to look at them all, feeling himself smiling, feeling free. Tony looks proud. Bruce has taken his glasses off, hand in front of his mouth to hide a smile. Steve’s grinning right at him, and abruptly Bucky feels a rush of something. Something warm and good and terrifying at the same time. 

“What’s the verdict, big guy?”

He looks at his new hand, then back at Tony. “I…thank you. Thank you.”

Tony smiles. “Glad to be of service.”


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Clint come to visit. Also, Bucky is happier.

_It takes a lot to live, to ask for help_   
_To be yourself, to know and love what you live with_   
_It takes a lot to breathe, to touch, to feel_   
_The slow reveal of what another body needs_

_\- It Takes A Lot To Know A Man, Damien Rice_

**Steve**

Bucky spends the next few days testing out the arm in the gym and around their floor, picking things up, putting them down again. There are a few broken glasses, and once he almost falls over on the balancing beams, but he seems to be adapting fast. By the end of the week, he’s doing one-armed handstands.

It eases something in Steve to watch him like that, and there's an underlying tension gone from Bucky’s face. He wonders how much Bucky must have hated the arm HYDRA gave him.

“Your balance is looking real good, Buck,” he calls, finishing up with the punching bags and walking over. 

Bucky shifts easily back onto both feet. “Thanks.” He looks at his new hand, smiles; a real smile, though it's small. “It feels good.”

“I’m glad.” Steve can’t seem to stop grinning. “You ready to go back upstairs?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, an achingly familiar gesture. “I thought we could spar. Not done it in a while.”

Somehow, Steve feels his smile get wider. “Anything you want, Buck.” He plants his feet. “Ready?”

Bucky spins into a kick and they go from there. It’s always exhilarating, fighting with someone who can really hold their own with him. Tony’s good when he’s in the suit, but this is different. This is Bucky. So he pushes them both, and it’s beautiful, and Bucky is beautiful. 

Steve didn’t realise how much the old arm had physically weighed him down. He’d thought Bucky was graceful and deadly before, the same way Natasha is, but this is like dancing. They end up grappling on the floor, neither of them able to hold the other for more than three seconds: Bucky somehow wriggles out of every hold, and Steve’s reactions are too quick. Eventually, Bucky manages to hit him in the shoulder with his left hand, numbing Steve’s entire arm, and then throws himself on top, arms and legs wrapped around Steve’s so that neither of them can move. 

He struggles; the new arm may be lighter but it’s still heavy, and his left arm is rendered almost useless by it. “I win," Bucky insists. 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agrees. “Just this once.”

“Had me on the ropes, huh?”

He catches his breath at hearing his own words echoing down the years. “Did I?”

“Nope.” Bucky rolls off him, stretches like a cat. “You used to say that to me, right?”

“You remember that?” He gets up on his elbows.

“Yeah. I remember enough.” Bucky looks at him, suddenly unreadable. Steve doesn’t know what to make of it. Then the moment passes, and Bucky’s getting up, and he feels like he’s missed something important.

*

_From: Nat  
We’re in the area for a couple of days. Tell Stark to get his fine china out._

_To: Nat  
When?_

_From: Nat  
Tonight. _

_To: Nat  
I’ll bring Bucky._

_From: Nat  
You do that._

*

“Natasha’s coming round tonight,” Steve announces over dinner. He’s testing out carbonara, since pizza went down pretty well. Bucky’s chopping the bacon. “You should meet her.”

“Natasha?”

“You sort of met her before. She has red hair.” 

Bucky stills. “The Widow.” His eyes are far away, looking for something. Steve leaves him be. He does this when he’s remembering in a good way, not dissociating. “She was good. Very good.” He flicks his eyes up at Steve. “I think I met her before she was with you.”

“She mentioned that.”

“I shot her.”

“Yeah.”

He puts the knife down, bracing both fists on the counter. “I’ve hurt most of the people you know.” Steve watches him carefully. "I should make it right."

"Buck, no one wants you to--"

"I want to."

He can't argue with that. "Well. You can talk to her tonight." 

It turns out Nat brought Clint with her, though Steve guesses he should have expected that. They’re playing poker with Tony and Bruce, and Nat is definitely winning. She looks up with an expression that isn’t quite amusement. “Hey.”

“Hi. It's good to see you,” Steve says. Bucky steps further into the room and Nat’s face changes slightly. "This is Bucky. Bucky, this is Nat and Clint."

She says something to Bucky in Russian, and to Steve’s surprise Bucky replies - rusty, but still fluent. There’s a pause. She asks him something which takes him a while to answer.

Tony’s eyes are narrowed, flicking between Nat and Bucky. Bruce is looking at Steve. He shrugs. Clint is watching the exchange with raised eyebrows, but says nothing.

After a short but incredibly tense conversation, they abruptly switch back to English. “Come on. I’ll demolish both of you at poker and you can all owe me your first-born child,” Nat says, and just like that she seems to have accepted Bucky.

“She cheats,” Tony announces as they sit down. Bucky doesn’t pick up any cards, content to watch, though he seems distracted. “I haven’t figured out how, but she definitely cheats.”

After twenty minutes, Steve agrees. He folds, exasperated. “I don’t know how you’re doing this. I played a lot of cards in the war and this is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

“I worked in the damn circus,” says Clint, folding as well. “I still don’t know how the hell she does it.” 

Nat smiles and says nothing.

*

Bucky’s quiet when they get back; not his usual quiet, but the silence he keeps when he’s deciding how safe it is to speak. Steve gets some of Bruce's tea going and waits, back turned.

Eventually: “Sam said something before he left.”

“Yeah?” Neutral. Don't push.

“He said I should ask you if you love me.” Steve stops moving. “Nat said the same thing. She says you love me more than you love being alive.” _Calling her Nat already,_ he thinks dazedly. He supposes that’s a good thing. He hears Bucky come a little closer, wonders if he can hear his heart beating. “So. Do you?”

He turns around. Bucky’s voice is a lot steadier than he actually looks. He has his arms wrapped around himself, like he’s cold. Like he’s bracing for something. 

“Yes.” He breathes in, meets his eyes, gambles it all. “I love you, Buck. I always have. I couldn’t stop loving you.” There is a moment of awful silence where Steve thinks Bucky will run. But he doesn’t, so he steps closer. “Bucky?”

“I.” He swallows. “Didn’t think you did. Or could.”

God, that hurts. “Well. I do. I love you.” And there’s a sudden freedom in that, saying those words again after seventy years, so he says it again. “I love you.” He holds his hand out, palm up, hoping. 

Carefully, so carefully, Bucky takes it. “I don’t know if I love you. They took that with everything else." He looks up, determined. "But I remember how it used to be. And I miss it.” He breathes in. “I want to have that again.”

“Me too,” Steve manages. He feels dizzy. He feels like his heart should be leaping out of his chest. He feels like he wants to keep holding on to Bucky’s hand and never let go. 

“Can we try?”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, though it feels shaky. “I’d like that.”


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve start navigating their physical relationship. Another trigger warning on this chapter!

_Is it alright for me to feel this way?_  
_Put my head in your lap, the world will go away_  
_Well, well, we can go there, we can go anywhere_  
_We can go there_  
_But is it alright? Is it alright?_  
_Is it alright to hold you through the night?_

_\- Alright, Kinnie Starr_

**Bucky**

He stays in Steve’s room that night. It feels wrong to go back to his own room now that he knows. 

Steve loves him. And Bucky believes him when he says it, because he knows Steve wouldn’t lie about that the same way he knows the sky is blue. He lies next to Steve and watches him sleep, face relaxed and innocent. His hand still rests in Bucky’s.

“We can go as slow as you want,” he’d said earlier. “I don't want anything from you that you don't want to give. So you just...just let me know what's okay and what's not. We don't even have to be physical at all, if--"

"No," Bucky had interrupted, and "I want to," though he didn't know how to explain that his fear and his desire have mingled together; how he craves Steve's hands on him but is also terrified of what he'll do with those hands.

"Whatever you want, Buck," Steve had promised. "Any preferences so far?"

Bucky had looked at their fingers, still laced together. "I like this," he said. "And I liked it when you touched my back. Before I got the new arm."

"Like this?" Steve had reached around him, lightly rested his hand in the small of Bucky's back. He'd nodded. "Okay. Anywhere else?"

They experimented slowly, Steve touching Bucky's waist, stomach, chest, arms, shoulders. The tension and fear had slowly leaked away, like he was full of poison and Steve's touch was draining it. When they got to his face he'd leaned into Steve's hands, held them there with his own. He was almost drowsy with it. Steve had pushed Bucky's hair out of his eyes, breathed "You're so beautiful," like a revelation.

Bucky had said, "You are too," and like so many things, he hadn't known it was true until he'd said it.

Steve hadn't said anything to that, only drawing in a deep breath and holding it. Bucky's not sure what that had meant, and then Steve had changed the subject. "So. We have safe areas for you now. And if we decide to do something new, I’ll keep checking in with you. Is that okay?”

Bucky had nodded, and they'd left it there.

Now the clock says 02:18. He turns the pillow over and presses his face into the cool side, jostling Steve a bit, but he doesn't wake up. Bucky envies him. He falls asleep a few hours later, only to sit up as soon as Steve gets out of bed.

“Go back to sleep,” Steve says, but Bucky’s too alert. Steve looks at him, reconsiders. “Or you can come running with me? It’s really quiet at this time of the morning.”

It is very, very early. He thinks about it. “Yeah. Okay.”

Steve’s smile is bright, and Bucky feels proud for a moment. It dissipates as soon as they step outside. He catalogues all the likely places for snipers, the places he would pick. They’re going slow enough that he can make a full assessment, but that also means slow enough for a clean shot. He puts himself between Steve and the most obvious sightline to his skull.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly. “It’s okay. Come on.”

He picks up the pace, and soon Bucky is only concentrating on his breathing. He’s been fighting in the gym, not running, and is dismayed to find it harder than he thought to keep up. But he does it.

They get back to the tower just as people start leaving for work. “So, how was that?” Steve asks. His hair is messy. It suits him.

“It was good,” he says, and goes to have a bath. 

Bruce knocks on his door a little later, and Bucky answers in a towel. He doesn’t know when he started caring about being naked again. Bruce is still clearly uncomfortable. “I can come back,” he offers.

“No. I’ll be ready soon.”

But he can’t concentrate. His mind wanders to Steve every time. Eventually he gives up, lying back on the floor.

“You okay, Bucky?” Bruce’s eyes are still closed. “You seem distracted.”

“I keep thinking about Steve.”

“Mm?”

“I think we’re together now.”

That makes Bruce open his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It was my idea.”

“Good.” Bruce closes his eyes again. “You were clearly made for each other.”

Bucky thinks about that for the rest of the hour. He wonders if it’s true.

*

Sam comes by for lunch, and Bucky is honestly surprised to see him. So much has happened that he doesn't know where to begin when Sam asks how he’s been. He chooses the biggest change.

"Tony made me a new arm."

"I can see that," Sam says, grinning. He hasn't really stopped smiling since he came in. "You like it?"

"It's better. It doesn’t hurt. And it's mine."

"The other one wasn't?"

"No.” He says it with a little more force than necessary. “It was theirs." He stops, but Sam seems to understand anyway.

"It's really good that you like it. Steve said you seemed happy with it."

"I was. I am. I can feel more." He clears his throat. "And you were right."

"Yeah? What about?"

He hasn't said it out loud yet. He feels strangely nervous, as if saying it will make it disappear. "Steve loves me."

Sam's face softens suddenly. "You asked him?"

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Afraid." He says it immediately, then checks that it's true. It is, but there are other things. "Safer too. And glad. And confused."

"That's a lot of feelings. How come ‘afraid’ came first?"

He thinks. "I don't know what it means to be with him." 

“Wait.” Sam leans forward slightly, looking intent. Not angry. Sam doesn’t get angry. “Are you a couple?”

“I. Yes.” He hasn’t done anything wrong. Steve would have said if he had. He forces himself to keep looking at Sam. “It was my idea. I asked him if we could try to be together, like before.”

Sam scrubs a hand over his hair. “Bucky. This might not be a good idea for you right now.”

“Why not?” His fists are clenched. He exhales, releases them. “It feels right.”

“Does it? Or are you doing it because it's what Steve wants?”

Sam is not a threat. “I’m doing it because I want to. We’ve always been together. Sometimes that’s the only good thing I can remember.” He breathes in. Calm. “I know my own mind, and I know what I want. Don’t tell me I don’t.”

Sam leans back again, one eyebrow raised. But he’s smiling. “Okay, Bucky. You know I had to check.”

“Well. Don’t.”

“Message received." Sam pauses. "It sounds like you’ve been doing pretty good while I was away. Do you think so?”

He thinks about meeting Thor and Natasha, trusting Tony and Bruce, being with Steve. The freedom of his new arm. “Yeah.”

“So. Do you still need these conversations with me?” He doesn’t know. “We can still talk any time, but I think it might be better if you keep learning how to handle things by yourself. We can see how you’re doing in around a month.” Bucky nods, pressing his lips together. He was brave once. He can be again. Sam looks at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking, which is probably true. “I got something for you.” He slides a small box across the table. It’s a phone. “So you know I’m never far away. And neither’s Steve.” Their numbers are already in the contacts list. 

“Thank you,” he says. He seems to be thanking a lot of people lately.

“You’re welcome.” Sam stands, stretches. He looks towards the kitchen. “Wanna learn how to bake my mom’s cookies?”

*

_From: Unknown  
steve._

_To: Unknown  
Who is this?_

_From: Unknown  
you know im not sure about that myself most of the time_

_To: Bucky  
Hey, Buck. Sam gave you the phone. Do you like it?_

_From: Bucky  
yeah. where are you_

_To: Bucky  
I’m with Tony and Bruce on the communal floor. We’re watching a documentary about dolphins. Want to come sit with us?_

_From: Bucky  
i made cookies with Sam. i can bring them_

_To: Bucky  
Sam’s mom’s recipe? They’re the best. _

_From: Bucky  
your moms were better_

_To: Bucky  
You remember those?_

_From: Bucky  
yeah_

_To: Bucky  
I’m glad. Come downstairs, Tony asked me what I was smiling at and now he knows you have cookies._

*

When they get back to their floor, Bucky puts his driftwood back in Sam’s box. He turns around in time to catch Steve smiling. “What?”

“Nothing. Just glad you don’t think you need that any more.”

“I have you now.” Steve’s smile grows. It’s a good time to ask. “Can I stay here now? In your room?”

“I’d like that.” He walks over to look out of the window next to Bucky. He takes a deep breath, and when he looks again at Bucky something has changed in his face, some pressure vanished. “I’m real happy right now, Buck.”

Bucky lifts his hand carefully, puts it on Steve’s. “I think I am too.” He looks at Steve’s mouth, so close. "Can I kiss you?"

Steve nods, eyes wide. His lips part, though Bucky thinks it's unconscious rather than a deliberate invitation. It has the same effect. He leans in, brushes his lips across Steve's mouth. 

He's not sure what he's doing until suddenly he is, because this is Steve and kissing Steve is like breathing, always has been. He loses himself in it, the whole world narrowing down to just them, just this. Steve's mouth is soft and pliant under his, opening his mouth when Bucky pushes with his tongue. How has he forgotten this?

He feels hands clutching at his waist, realises he's holding on to Steve hard. He pulls away, breathless. Steve looks utterly debauched. _I did that,_ he thinks.

“You okay?”

Bucky nods, slightly frantic, and then kisses Steve again because he just. Needs to. And Steve is kissing back and nothing is hurting. It’s the opposite of hurting. 

After a while, he starts experimenting. He kisses Steve’s neck, listens to him gasp. His hair is silky and Bucky messes it up with both hands. Steve nudges him gently in the direction of the bed, and he goes willingly, but then Steve half-falls on top of him and--

_Oh no_

_“Please stop,” and it’s only a whisper now after hours of screaming_

_“Stop it, I’ll do anything you want, just stop--”_

“--shh, you’re okay, I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful. You’re okay, you’re safe, it’s over. It’s just me, it’s just Steve.” He blinks, and in the next instant is crushed by the knowledge that he’s broken, damaged. Probably forever. 

He sits up slowly and brings his fist to his mouth, concentrating on not sobbing. He hears Steve saying his name, can’t reply; he just leans in, lets himself be held. “We’ll get through this,” he hears Steve murmur. “I promise, we’ll get through it.”

He doesn’t nod, but he manages to take his hand down, wrap himself around Steve instead until his heartbeat slows. “I’m sorry,” he says, and suddenly he can’t stop saying it, apologising for everything, for the way he is, for the people he’s hurt and killed. For hurting Steve so much, so many times.

Steve just holds him until he stops. His eyes ache with strain of not crying.

"Bucky," he says, "you don't have to apologise. Not to me, not to anyone. Not ever." He touches Bucky's face, turns it towards him. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," Bucky says, because it's easy to believe Steve. 

He stays all night again.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's still improving. Then shit happens.
> 
> This is the penultimate chapter btw. The last chapter is giving me A LOT of trouble though, so it might take a while.

_No need for comfort, no need for light_  
_I am hunting down demons tonight_  
_Eat the terror, lick the spark_  
_My blood beats dark_

_\- Bloodbeat, Patrick Wolf_

**Steve**

Some days, it's very difficult to leave Bucky in bed. Those are the days when Steve has to be pushed onto the floor before he accepts he's awake and going for a run. On his best days, Bucky will go running with him, and occasionally Steve is gifted with seeing that old competitive streak.

His recovery continues in fits and starts. Sometimes he'll go back to his own room and stay silent for hours. Other times, he’ll watch stupid TV shows all night with the rest of them. Luckily, Nat and Clint have extended their visit. Steve is quietly but fiercely grateful for it when he sees Bucky and Nat talking quietly in Russian, or Clint playing darts with Bucky in unsurprisingly intense competitions.

Sam seems pleased to see it when he comes by for movie night. He stands with Steve in the kitchen, watching Bucky, Clint, and Natasha test how many pieces of popcorn they can throw into Tony's mouth before he wakes up. Bruce is watching with a fair amount of delight.

"He's gonna be so mad when he wakes up," Sam says.

"Yeah, but it's worth it."

"I never said it wasn't," Sam points out, grinning. "I think Bucky's even smiling."

"He does that now and again." Steve leans back against the counter, stifling a laugh when Bucky makes a particularly difficult shot. "You ever notice how it's really hard to get him to sleep unless he's with the rest of us?"

"I noticed. Know what I think?" He shakes his head. "I think he only ever completely relaxes when he's with the people he trusts."

Steve revises his thoughts about Tony a little. "You're probably right about that. Speaking of people Tony trusts, how's Rhodey?"

Sam smiles into his beer. "Good. Really good."

There's a sudden spluttering from the sofa. "What the f-?!"

They all run.

*

It's been a week. Steve steps out into a crisp autumn morning, and before he knows it, his feet have taken him back to Brooklyn. He knew he was going to end up back there at some time, and spends a little while getting his bearings. Amazingly, Mrs Pietrowski's bagel shop is still around.

He steps in, and suddenly it's the 1940s again - the decor, the menu, the smell are all the same. He gets enough for the whole tower and sets out for home.

His phone rings. Tony. "Hey, what's-"

"Where the fuck are you?!"

He stops. "What happened?"

"HYDRA happened! Approximately every single one of them--" There's an explosion on the other end of the phone.

Ice trickles down his spine. He drops the bagels. "Where's Bucky?"

"I don't fucking know, just get here! Now!"

Steve silently thanks god that Natasha and Clint are still around and starts running.

*

It's carnage. HYDRA's weapons have carved chunks out of the streets and buildings. Cars are burning. They're everywhere, like cockroaches.

"Think fast, Cap!" He hears, and turns in time to catch his shield before Clint darts away again.

Then they start shooting at him and Steve doesn't think for a while except for _BuckyBuckyBucky_. At some point, Sam and War Machine show up. He notes how well they work together as he beats his way to the tower's door. 

HYDRA have clearly sent the newest recruits. Their fighting style is untrained, weak; _distraction,_ he thinks, and fights harder. If they're trying to distract them, something worse is happening elsewhere.

He looks up, sees that Bruce's floor has the windows blacked out - Hulk-proof mode. Steve hopes it's only a precaution. There's a thud behind him, and Steve spins around to see Nat standing over someone she's clearly just taken down. "About time," she says.

"Do we know what's going on?" 

"No, but I think some were parachuted in."

"Is Hawkeye on the roof? Or Stark?"

"Not yet."

Steve curses. "Is it secure inside the Tower?"

"JARVIS is on it!" yells Tony as he flashes past.

Nat looks at him. "You think they're after Barnes." He nods. "We can handle things here. Go get your boy."

He feels wings pass over him. "Sam! Get me to the 42nd floor!"

"Gotcha!" 

He's literally swept off his feet, and for a wild moment he hopes Rhodey doesn't get jealous. Then he's dropped on the balcony and bursts through the door in an explosion of glass.

Turns out this is where the fully trained HYDRA goons are. Or were. He registers a second hole in the wall of windows and a lot of bodies, and then someone tackles him. He heaves them off, drops his knee into their sternum. Hard.

"Where is he?" He barely recognises his own voice. 

"Gone." The man is grinning, looks barely sane; he's not even armed. Steve can't bring himself to care. He seizes him by the hair and slams the man’s head into the floor.

"Gone _where?_ "

"Where he belongs, Captain." Then the froth begins to bubble up between his teeth, and Steve roars his frustration because this is _not_ happening. He gets up, searches the dead agents for any clue, anything at all. There are over a dozen of them. Bucky put up a hell of a fight.

He sees something glint under the sofa and grabs it. Bucky's phone, with the back of it smashed off. He looks closer. "JARVIS!"

"Yes, sir.” If he didn’t know better, he’d say even the AI sounds stressed.

“Get Tony here.”

He allows himself one moment of utter terror while he waits. Then he stands up and becomes Captain America as Tony lands on the balcony. “You find him?” Steve sees him notice the bodies and speaks before he can react.

“No, but his phone is here. Looks like there’s a bit of it missing. I don’t know which part.” He offers it to Tony, who slides his visor up.

After a moment, he grins. “Clever.”

“What is?” Steve doesn’t let himself hope, not yet.

“He took the GPS.”

*

JARVIS tracks Bucky down in a matter of minutes, but it still isn’t fast enough for Steve. He only waits long enough to get his comms set up before heading across the river, aiming for the flashing red dot he prays is still accurate.

Sam and Natasha go with him. He sees Rhodey take Sam to one side for a moment, reads the words “be careful” on his mouth. He can't blame him - they all know that his plan is to knock on their front door again.

The base is, predictably, underground. Sam stays outside, keeping watch from the air. It’s that familiar silence again, that waiting, expectant silence, and Steve barely flinches when they’re ambushed. They’re well-trained, but he and Natasha are better, especially with the way Steve is feeling right now. 

“He’ll be in the deepest part of the building,” he tells Nat when everyone else is unconscious. “Let me know if you see anything.”

She nods. A few minutes later: “There. Lift shaft.”

He jumps; she grabs the cable and slides down. At the bottom, they hear noises. Fighting. He sprints, rounds a corner, bursts through double doors. There’s only half a dozen of them, and they’ve got one of Bucky’s arms strapped into the chair.

Their eyes meet for a split second, and Steve registers that he’s still there, lets the relief sink in. Then he’s moving, feeling like he’s made of anger or pure unholy hatred. From their faces, he probably looks like it as well. 

He gets shot in the arm and a bullet grazes his hairline, but he barely feels it. When he finally turns around, Bucky has his legs wrapped around the last agent’s throat. He’s wearing insignia; someone in charge. Steve starts forward, but:

“He’s mine,” Bucky says, voice as dangerous as Steve feels. So he unlocks Bucky’s arm instead, watches him break the man’s neck. They look at the corpse. “He’s the last one,” Bucky says, standing on shaky legs. “It’s over.”

Then his knees give way, and Steve catches him, wincing as his wounded arm protests. “I’m here,” he promises.

Bucky nods, then throws up.

*

Tony sends a car and they piece the story together on the way back from what Bucky had heard HYDRA gloating about. The London mission had been a decoy, meant to get Steve out of the tower for a few days - but then Bruce had turned up too often, and they hadn’t had the resources for the Hulk. They’d been planning to take Bucky back for months. 

Halfway through explaining, Bucky starts shaking uncontrollably. “They were gonna wipe me and send me after all of you,” he says. “Steve first.” He rubs at his face. "They shocked me with something back at the Tower when they figured out I'd rather kill all of them or die trying. That’s how they took me. They said I was their greatest success."

"It was good thinking with the GPS," Sam comments, neatly changing the subject. "Where'd you hide it?"

"Swallowed it." Sam raises an eyebrow. "I heard them coming. It was the only thing I could do that they couldn't remove easily. Or that. That I couldn't, if." He stops. "Anyway. It worked."

Nat gets to the point. "Did they inject you with anything?” He shakes his head. “Were you unconscious at any point?” Another shake. “Good.”

“There’s no one left to track me anyway,” Bucky says quietly, then clams up for the rest of the ride, mutely following Steve onto the communal floor. Clint nods at them from on top of the kitchen cabinets as they pass through the kitchen. 

Bruce - who thankfully hadn’t hulked out - is waiting in the living room to check up on Bucky. They all know how adrenaline can disguise a concussion or internal bleeding, but it still takes a little while to convince Bucky. Steve watches him trying not to snap as Bruce listens to his heart, tests his eyes, checks his balance. His fingers hurt where the metal hand is clutching it, but he doesn’t care.

When it’s over, they take the room opposite Clint’s. Steve hesitates, torn between taking care of Bucky and checking the damage on their floor. Nat sees his dilemma. “I’ll stay with him,” she offers. He nods, and takes Sam with him. Tony’s had someone remove the bodies, but the bloodstains and broken furniture are still there. Steve looks at the red outline of a hand near the kitchen.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

Sam sighs, crosses his arms. "I don't know, man. He’s not non-verbal or flashing in or out or anything, but there’s still time for a bad delayed reaction. That was pretty much his worst nightmare.”

“Apart from actually being wiped again.”

“Yeah. Apart from that.”

They pile up the pieces of wood and cushion and granite in the corner, leaving everything tidier but still invaded, polluted by the memory of HYDRA. He looks through the hole in the windows and thinks of how they were broken, looks at the kitchen and sees where Bucky must have smashed someone’s head open.

After a moment, he goes into Bucky’s bedroom, still untouched. He sits on the covers and then gives in, just buries his head in his hands; but his eyes are dry. He's too exhausted. Sam is leaning in the doorway. “This isn’t a safe place for him any more, Steve.”

Childishly, he’d been hoping Sam would tell him it would be okay. But Sam doesn’t lie. He thinks about it. “JARVIS?”

“What do you require, Captain?” Now he sounds sympathetic. Maybe he just sounds how Steve wants him to sound.

“Can you look for apartments for me and Bucky? Somewhere quiet, maybe with trees? And available as soon as possible?”

“I can, sir.”

“And nothing too expensive.”

“I’m afraid my programming requires me to spare no expense on your account, sir.”

Steve smiles, despite everything. “Tell Tony thank you.”

*

He packs their things and heads back downstairs while Sam heads back to Rhodey’s place. Bucky is asleep in Natasha’s lap. She’s singing softly to him in Russian, but stops as Steve arrives, giving him a look that means it never happened.

“How is he?” 

“Doing okay, I think. Twitchy, but okay, considering everything.” She eases his head onto the blankets, stands up. “I’m in the room next to Clint,” she says, and leaves.

Steve dithers for a while, then turns out the light and sits on the floor next to the bed, leaning his back against the mattress. He’d almost failed Bucky. Again.

“Stop that,” he hears Bucky murmur above him. “I can pretty much hear you blaming yourself.” A metal hand appears, beckoning. “Come here.”

After a little urging, Steve wraps himself around Bucky, face pressed into the back of his neck. “I was so scared,” he confesses. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I always come back, remember?” Bucky says. He reaches for Steve’s hand, holds it above his heart. “You’ll never get rid of me.”


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky takes care of Steve.
> 
> * 
> 
> Omg so this is the end. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please do comment and let me know what you think of this chapter, or of the story as a whole, or anything. Your feedback means so much to me and has kept me going throughout this, so thank you so much. And um. See you in my next fic, I guess!

_I would lie anywhere with you_   
_Any old bed of nails would do_   
_Ink up the wound for a crude tattoo_   
_A big old red heart with an anchor stuck through_

_I would lie anywhere with you_   
_Any old bed of nails for me_   
_Just so you're there when I fall asleep_   
_I'd lay all night in a lanky limbed heap_

_\- Bed of Nails, Wild Beasts_

**Bucky**

"Bucky!" Steve yells, and he's immediately out of bed, knife in hand. There's nothing, and Steve's expression changes from horror to embarrassment. He flops back down on the bed, presses a pillow into his face. "Sorry. Bad dream."

He puts the knife down, sitting on their bed. He thinks of Sam. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Steve doesn’t lift the pillow. "I'm not sure you want to hear it."

"You've listened to mine," Bucky points out. "And I have them way more than you."

He sighs, takes the pillow off his face. "We were back on the bridge, fighting. Your mask never came off, so I…” _Killed you,_ Bucky hears, though Steve didn’t say it. “But I took it off afterwards."

"Oh." He strokes Steve's hair. "That is a bad dream."

"Yeah."

"But I’m alive. And I’m okay.” He thinks about it. “Sort of." Steve smiles crookedly at that, and pulls gently at Bucky to get him to lie down again. He keeps his hand in Steve's hair. “Go to sleep,” he says softly, and waits for Steve's breathing to even out before getting up and dressing. There’s no chance he’ll fall asleep again after being woken up so suddenly.

He pads down the stairs. JARVIS hadn’t found an apartment for them. Instead, they have a whole house, complete with two floors, attic, and a garden. Steve had tried to tell Tony they couldn’t accept it, but Tony just had Pepper buy it for Stark Industries and send them the keys. Even after a month, Bucky's still getting used to the space.

He opens the door and steps outside, sitting on the grass. Steve spends a lot of time in the garden because of the light, and his drawings are all over their walls. They're mostly of Bucky. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to how he looks in those pictures; delicate, strong, pensive. They show how careful Steve is with him; so careful that some days Bucky hates him for it. He knows it’s unfair, knows that he still leaves sometimes; but he _wants_ , he wants so badly to know everything he's missed. 

The first time he'd woken up hard and pressed against Steve, he hadn't known what to do. Steve had responded even in his sleep, pushing back into Bucky, and it had felt amazing. Then he'd woken up, turning around and whispering his name, and everything had suddenly been familiar. He'd just _felt_ , and Steve’s hands had been warm and sure, and he’d known exactly how to make Steve feel the same way he did; how to make him forget himself in the best way. He’d come for probably the first time in decades, and kissed the gasps from Steve's mouth until he stopped shaking. 

It was good; is good. They have a good thing. 

He’s still thinking in the garden when he hears Steve gets up. "Buck?"

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna skip the run today." He clears his throat. "Come back to bed?"

Bucky knows exactly how Steve looks right now without opening his eyes. He’ll be rumpled from sleep and still in his underwear, one hand on his neck in the awkward gesture he makes whenever he asks Bucky for something. 

When he does look, there’s something else there, too. Fragile, somehow. He remembers Steve’s nightmare. Sure," he says, and goes to meet him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Steve turns his head to kiss him properly and tugs him back upstairs to their room. 

He presses his mouth to Steve's neck, feeling his heart beating. Steve makes a pleased noise, so he does it again, sliding both hands into his hair. He thinks of what he would need. 

“I’m here,” he murmurs, and proves it by pushing Steve gently backwards until they’re both on the bed, Bucky in Steve’s lap. “I’m here,” he says again, and kisses Steve harder this time, until they’re breathless. Then he does it again, and he's happy just kissing for a while, until suddenly he wants more and remembers he can have it. Steve's hands are under his clothes, and that’s another thing Bucky wants more of, so he pulls everything off.

"God, Bucky--" Steve kisses him harder, hands roaming over Bucky's back. "I missed you for so long--”

"I know,” he says, and pushes Steve onto his back.

"Fuck --"

“Shh.” Steve’s eyes are blown wide and dark as Bucky presses closer to grind against him, feeling how hard he is already. His fingers dig into Bucky's hips. "I want you.”

"I want you too, Buck, always--" Bucky kisses him fiercely and wraps his hand around Steve's dick at the same time. Steve moans into his mouth and reaches for Bucky, stroking him fast and hard. He grabs for the headboard with his metal hand and hears a crunch, but can't bring himself to care. He's so close already, can feel that Steve is too. 

He sucks at Steve's throat, wanting to leave evidence that he's been here, that he belongs here. Steve gasps his name and comes immediately, and Bucky can't help following a moment later. He buries his face in Steve’s neck and breathes.

After a moment, Steve curls his arm around Bucky, shifts them onto their sides. "Hey."

"Mm?"

"I think we broke the headboard."

Bucky looks up at the wreckage. "Stark can get us a new one.” Steve laughs, still surprised whenever Bucky makes a joke, and looks... _beautiful,_ his mind says. _He's always been beautiful._

They lie there in silence for a while, arms thrown over each other. Steve's mouth is on his forehead and Bucky thinks, _I love you, I love you._ The words build inside him, pressing up from his chest to his teeth, until he blurts "I love you," and Steve turns to him, eyes bright.

He doesn't say "really?" or "are you sure?" What he says is: "I love you too," and now Bucky understands what that means. And they're going to be okay.


End file.
